


A story you'll 8e

by OnyxSardonyx



Series: Unfortun8 Events [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Animal Communication, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gen, I'm so sorry, M/M, Quadrant Confusion, Quadrant Vacillation, Revolution, Torture, lots of people die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 77,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1729649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSardonyx/pseuds/OnyxSardonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is Alternia. No stories here have happy endings. And a story you'll be, Summoner. A story you'll be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this will basically be my version of the tale of the Summoner.
> 
> It's part two of the "Unfortun8 Events" Series which basically follows Mindfang; the first part, "Manipul8", is about Mindfang and the Dolorosa. You don't need to have read it to read this fic, but events in Manipul8 will be referenced occasionally in this fic.

  


"When am I going to die?"

She gazes into the oracle as a blue triangle surfaces, showing her a date, more than a hundred sweeps from now. She memorises it instantly.

She's a blueblood, one of the higher castes, so her natural life expectancy is higher than that, though. The date suggests that she isn't going to die of natural causes.

"Who will be the one to kill me?"

_The Summoner._

Interesting. She's never heard of him.

Luckily, she has the oracle, and the oracle can tell her everything.

"Who is he?"

_He will lead the biggest rebellion your people have ever seen._

It sounds like an interesting story. She loves stories.

"Tell me more."

The cue ball is very easily coaxed into telling her what she wants to know. It flashes blue at her in quick succession, a mesh of words, telling her the story of the Summoner.

_He will be the leader of the Cavalreapers._

_He will continue the legacy of the one they call the Sufferer._

_The Summoner will rebel against the caste system and inspire millions to his cause._

_He will almost succeed in overthrowing the Condesce._

_He will fail, and be killed._

_The Condesce will be shaken by this rebellion._

_She will order all adult trolls to leave the homeworld, and explore and conquer space._

_This will decentralise the species, making future protests of this scale impossible._

"Show me the Summoner's face."

The orb doesn't usually like to show her images, but this time, it obliges. She sees his face, a pleasant-looking lowblooded troll with large horns. She sees his wings.

"Wings?"

_A mutation._

_He will be greatly admired for them._

And then, another image: him flying in the shadow of a great dragon.

"How can someone as low as him rally so many to his cause?" He's a fudgeblood, almost the lowest possible caste; it is inconceivable to her how he would have the power to be one of the greatest martyrs Alternia will ever see, along with being the one to kill her.

_He will have an army of beasts._

Another image: The Summoner surrounded by more animals than she has ever seen in her life.

She has learned more than enough about the Summoner.

However, some questions remain.

"Will I know him? Personally?"

_Yes._

"Oh, so it won't just be an assassination of someone he perceives to be a threat?"

_No._

"Will he be my friend?"

_Of sorts._

"Will he be my enemy?"

_No._

She's getting impatient.

"What is he, then? To me?"

_He will be your matesprit._

She stares at the oracle.

The oracle never lies; she knows that well enough. But it looks, sounds, feels wrong in so many ways; she's never had a matesprit, she's never thought herself capable of red feelings. She's dreamed of it, of course, of finding that perfect troll, someone to sweep her off her feet; but she never thought it would be someone of such a low caste.

"My matesprit? Are you sure?"

_The Summoner will be your matesprit._

"And he'll kill me?"

_The Summoner will be your matesprit, and he will kill you._

For someone to kill their matesprit is not unheard of.

Part of her wants to know what will happen, but part of her is disgusted. She puts the oracle down. For the first time, she gets a vague notion that she's not actually supposed to know the future.

She takes up the oracle again. Only one more question.

"Will I love him?"

_Yes._

 


	2. Chapter 2

Running, running, running. They're after you with swords and axes and the anger of highblood castes that have been angered. You stumble on the uneven ground. You're out of breath, out of options.

You haven't done this in far too long. _Too much flying, Rufioh_ , you reprimand yourself. You're not in shape anymore. You used to be stronger.

Your injured wing is still uselessly fanning out to one side. The pain keeps you from folding it back so you can at least run properly. They're catching up, and quickly.

You didn't even do anything. You didn't attack anyone. You were just talking, and someone overheard you. And as you realised you were in danger and prepared to take off, their spear pierced your right wing.

So you're running.

You know this territory better than them and that gives you an advantage. You slip between narrow paths in the rock, hiding behind bushes, loosening stones to trip them as they fall around their feet. You long to spread your wings and just fly, fly away and find your lusus, but you can't.

Next time, you'll have to protect your wings better.

You can see a small opening only a few feet from you. You hastily leap over and slip into the cave. You doubt they've seen you disappear. You cower against the wall and try not to move as they run past.

They still might smell you in here, or follow your trail of blood.

But as the clamour outside dies down and your eyes get used to the dark, you suddenly see why they didn't follow you here.

This cave is inhabited. By a troll, it seems. The walls are covered in writing.

Written in blood. You take a sniff and are immediately dizzy with the smell you haven't noticed before - the blood of hundreds of animals, all made to die and bleed, their blood ending in writing on the wall.

You can see many different blood colours. You can tell by their scent what animal the blood came from, if it was male or female, if it was old or young. You can sniff out what they ate the night they were killed.

It's too dark for you to read the writing. You decide to sit still. The danger isn't past. If the inhabitant of this cave comes back, you'll have to deal with them, but it's easier to deal with one troll than with a hundred.

You sit and listen. You can hear the gentle sound of the night outside and the distant noises of the crowd. It's getting quieter every second.

You wait another few minutes, then softly inquire out, reach with your mind for your lusus.

_Pyralspite?_

There is no answer. She must be very far away.

Which worries you, since she usually doesn't leave your side. You don't really believe something has happened to her - she is more than capable of defending herself against almost anything. But you usually get at least some vibe of her emotions. Now, there's nothing.

You sigh softly. She'll be back. She's always been a bit elusive. She's your lusus and your guardian; you don't control her, and she sure does have a mind of her own. Maybe she just chose to shield her thoughts from you for some reason.

Of all the animals and lusi you've met, Pyralspite is the only one you've found capable of doing so.

You tense when you hear something from outside. It's almost silent.

You're so used to utilising the minds of animals that you don't think twice: you reach out with your mind and find a few small rodents. They're only peripherally aware of your mind. You sense their fear and see through their eyes: a tall fearsome creature that has hunted their kin and will not hesitate to kill them if they fail to hide. Their fear doesn't make seeing any easier; most of them run as soon as she comes into sight.

You crouch in a defensive position, alarmed by the little animals' fright. You expect a tall, fearsome warrior to enter the cave.

Instead, she's small, much shorter than you. The first glimpse you get of her reveals an elderly woman with long wild hair and horns much like meowbeast ears.

She looks harmless, almost cute.

But the moment she sees you, she reveals sharp claws on her hands and a truly fearsome hiss. She's been hunting, you realise; a number of animal corpses fall from her fingers as she prepares to attack.

You don't want to fight her. Instead, you straighten up a bit and raise your hands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," you say softly.

She doesn't relax at all.

"Who are you?" Her voice is rough. It seems she hasn't spoken in a very long time.

"My name is Rufioh," you hastily introduce yourself. "I was chased by highbloods and found refuge in here - I'm sorry for intruding, I mean you no harm."

She doesn't seem to believe you.

"Why would you be here at all?" she says. "I haven't seen any troll in these mountains for sweeps."

"Uh," you say. "I come here quite a lot, actually. I'm good at hiding, I suppose. But then, so are you."

She looks at you and then relaxes a bit. She picks up the animals she's killed and throws them to the side carelessly. You try (and fail) not to wince. You didn't know these poor souls personally (you would recognise them if you did), but you don't doubt they had pure hearts and short lives.

"Rufioh," she says. Your name sounds strange out of her mouth.

"Yes," you say, "that's my name."

She nods.

"Meulin," she says.

Her name, you assume.

"Meulin," you echo.

She takes a step forward and lights a small lamp at the entrance of the cave. It's positioned perfectly: it illuminates the cave, but doesn't let any light escape to the outside.

You finally manage to read the writing on the wall.

_And he told them: Those of noble blood are not worth more than those of lesser blood. The blood castes are merely an illusion, a power play of the high classes to keep the low classes quiet. You do not have to listen to them; you do not have to be their slaves._

Your eyes dart over the wall and pick out a different passage, written in bright red.

_His rage was as endless as his love had been, and all that heard his scream shivered; and with this shout of fierce anger on his lips, the Sufferer died._

"The Sufferer," you say.

Her eyes are on you. Dark and cold and judging.

"You're recording his teachings on the walls?"

She nods.

You swallow. You know the tales of the Sufferer. He's been a major inspiration throughout all your life.

You look at Meulin. She's still wearing her sign; her blood colour gives you an indication of how old she might be. You quickly do the numbers in your head. She was probably alive when the Sufferer taught.

It was many sweeps ago, long before you were hatched, but she's a midblood: Her life span is a lot longer than yours.

And you think you know who she is.

"Are you his Disciple?" you ask.

"His Disciple," she replies. "His matesprit, his moirail, his lover."

It's her. To think that she's been living here all along without you ever knowing.

She disappeared after she was meant to be executed; nobody has heard from her since.

"He made me everything I am," she says quietly. "Without him, I am nothing."

"But you survived," you say gently.

"I survived because I must," she says, hard. "Who else is going to keep his teachings alive but me? I wrote down every word he said; I have to pass it on."

"I grew up with his story," you say softly. "His teachings influenced me greatly. My lusus knows many stories. She raised one of his secret followers, sweeps ago."

Meulin looks confused for a moment. "She?"

It's known that lusi generally only raise children of the same gender as themselves. You've grown tired of explaining this, over and over again, and have grown accustomed to not mentioning the gender of your lusus at all.

"I had a lusus before her," you say. "He died when I was very young. I couldn't care for myself. Pyralspite found me and adopted me, and she taught me many things."

Adoption is rare, but not unheard of. Usually, the abandoned wrigglers are simply left to die. You were fortunate.

"You're certainly very unusual," Meulin remarks, her eyes flitting to the wings hovering above your head.

"Not as unusual as you might think," you say earnestly. "I have a mutation, I was adopted and I have some crazy ideas. That's about the extent of my unusualness."

"It was enough for the Signless," Meulin says.

She's right, you realise. You've never looked at it like that, but she's absolutely right. The Sufferer had a mutation: his candy red blood colour. He was adopted by the Dolorosa because no lusus would take him. As for his crazy ideas... well, they inspired thousands.

You're still not confident enough in yours to share them with the world. Some people know about them. You sometimes get on the bad side of some highbloods, just like you did earlier tonight.

But you've never preached like the Sufferer did.

"I don't think I could be like him," you say. "I used to say when I was younger, one day I'm going to lead a revolution. But I don't know if I've got what it takes."

She sighs. "What do you think it takes to be a leader?"

"I don't know," you say. "People skills. Charisma. Some form of manipulation, maybe? I'm not good with people. I've got many Cavalreapers following me, but I barely know any of them. The only ones I actually communicate with are, well... animals."

She laughs. It's a gentle and friendly laugh, you realise, and you smile a little bit.

"If you've got people following you, then that's all it takes," she says. "Why do they follow you?"

You think.

"I think a lot of them are terrified of my animals," you say honestly.

"And you're sure it doesn't have anything to do with your leadership skills? Maybe you're a good fighter? Or they think you'll do great things? They might even admire you for your mutation, who knows."

You think again, harder this time. You know for a fact that a lot of your cavalreapers admire you for your wings. They put you on an almost god-like pedestal for it. You've always thought it was silly. Your wings were something you were born with, not something you chose to have. You even sought solitude in your younger years because of it, believing you would be shunned.

The opposite is the case now.

"I'm a good fighter," you say. "I've never killed anyone, though. I grew up taming animals, and some animals don't like to be tamed. So I had to be tough to survive. I can beat anyone when sparring, but I don't want to hurt anyone, beast or troll."

Her smile hasn't left her face. It's starting to make you nervous.

"You're a leader, Rufioh," she simply says.

"If you say so." You're confused and slightly flattered, but doubt her assessment. She's living in a cave, for god's sakes - she can't be that good a judge of character.

"You should stay with me a while," she offers. "I can teach you about the Signless. You said he was your idol. You can learn from him. Let me have a look at your wound." She's next to you instantly and you flinch as she touches your wings. It's not a bad wound, it's not even bleeding anymore, but it will keep you from flying at least for a few nights.

"Highbloods, huh," she muses. "They'll shoot anything that doesn't agree with them."

"That's the general impression I got of them," you sigh. "I was only expressing an opinion."

"The wrong opinion, apparently," she says. She dabs your wound with a piece of cloth. It starts bleeding again. "Oops."

"Leave it," you say and take the cloth from her. "It's going to heal just fine."

Her hand sinks down. She looks almost disappointed, but sits down next to you. She picks up one of the dead animals she dropped earlier and bites into it. You wince as you hear the tiny bones crunch.

She swallows.

"Oh," she says. "Oh. Uh. I was going to offer you food, but I suppose that's going to be a problem."

"Uh, yeah," you say, suddenly insecure again. "They're my friends. I'm a plant-eater."

"How do you even survive?" she asks. You get the feeling that it's an honest question.

"I don't know," you say. "I just do. To be honest, I've never really thought about it. I've never killed an animal to eat it. It just seems wrong."

She nods and takes another bite. You've seen other people eat the flesh of beasts before; you've learned not to let it bother you too much. But there's something morbid about the way her teeth rip the raw flesh from the little rodent's bones. At least your cavalreapers cook the meat first.

"If you're okay being alone in here for a while, I can probably find you some herbs and berries and roots," she offers when she's finished. She's actually eaten all of it: fur, meat and bones. Her teeth are stained light blue from the blood. "I don't suppose you want to go out there."

You've found a safe place to stay. She's offered her hospitality. She was the Disciple of the Sufferer, so you believe that she means you no harm. You're not about to leave.

"No, thanks," you say. "I'm in your debt."

She chuckles. "Feel free to read as much as you can. If you've got questions, I'll explain anything you want later."

She ducks out of the cave. You can barely hear her as she saunters further away; a hunter of her skill must surely be very quiet.

You fold up your uninjured wing and curl the other one around your body, cradling it. The bleeding has almost stopped again. You don't think you should worry about it too much; whenever you hurt your wings as a child, they always healed quickly. You lift your eyes to the walls of the caves and follow the writing with your eyes.

The cave is much bigger than you thought at first, and almost every surface is covered in her writing. It's going to take you a while to read all of this.

You lean back and close your eyes.

_Pyralspite?_

Once again, there's no answer.

You sigh softly, then open your eyes and start to read.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dawn is already looming on the horizon when Meulin slips back into the cave. She's carrying an assortment of leaves, roots and fruit in a small leather bag, which she empties into your lap.

"Thank you," you say. She watches you as you sift through the plants. You've spent a lot of time in these mountains; you could probably tell blindly which plants are edible and which one aren't. You put the ones you can't eat to the side. Meulin shoots you a questioning look.

"I can't eat those," you explain. You point to some small pink berries. "Those are poisonous. Some birds can eat them, but not trolls. Those roots give you a nasty rash and the leaves from this plant make you throw up. I've used it a few times for medical purposes, but it's not worth eating them if you don't need to."

"I didn't know that," Meulin says.

"You don't need to, I suppose," you say.

"How do you know, then?" she asks.

"Uh. My lusus taught me some things. You can sometimes smell if something's poisonous. Some animals can tell you which things you can eat as well, even though that's not completely reliable. And of course, I've eaten some things without knowing and suffered from the effects."

"You're very in touch with nature," she observes. "Not many people are."

You shrug. "It's something that just comes with sharing the minds of animals. Sometimes I feel like I'm more animal than troll myself."

You pick out some of the tastier roots from the plants and start chewing on them. Meulin watches you.

"Maybe that's just what the world needs," she remarks.

 

 

You stay with her for four nights. She teaches you everything you could ever want to know about the Sufferer. Her tales are thrilling, full of adventure and love and peril; unlike Pyralspite, who only knew a few stories from Redglare, Meulin was there. Her stories are personal and heartfelt and you know that the Sufferer was and is her life more than anything else was or could ever be. After a while, you seem to notice a small, reluctant form of resentment against this in her stories - her love for him left no room for anything else, and her life ended when he died.

"The Executor might as well have killed me, I was already dead," she says when she tells you about how she escaped. "Why he spared me, I'll never know, but he probably believes he was doing me a favour. He wasn't."

And even now, sweeps after the Sufferer's death, he is still dominating her life; he is all she writes about, he is all she thinks about. She's isolated herself from civilisation not just by need, but also because after his death, she never wanted to talk to anyone else ever again; she tells you that initially, she believed that writing down his story would bring him back to life. She believed it so hard, she used to rehearse in her head what she would say to him when he found her, for of course he would seek her first of all trolls. And when he didn't come back, she kept writing, in the hopes that it would at least partially heal the gaping open hole that his death left in her.

Before you stumbled into her cave, she didn't see another troll's face for sweeps.

You realise she's lonely. She's fussing over you, making sure you eat and sleep enough and clumsily checking your wound, doing more damage than good with her sharp claws. After two days, you refuse to let her touch it, but reluctantly agree to stay another night. The night after that, she persuades you to stay yet again. She doesn't want to be left alone again, and you're the closest thing to a friend she has.

But you're worried, and you need to leave. Your cavalreapers need you and your leadership; they're likely ripping each other to sheds by this point. But still, they're not the ones you're most worried about.

You haven't heard anything from Pyralspite for days. Absolutely nothing, not even a stray thought or a blip of emotion. It's the longest you've gone without talking to her since she found you, and it's so highly unusual that you're starting to get seriously worried. There are only a few places where she could be, and you're anxious to leave Meulin's cave behind and look for your absent lusus.

It turns out you don't need to. On the evening of the fifth night, you can hear large wings approaching and step outside to welcome your lusus and friend back.

She still won't talk to you, no matter how much you reach out to her with your mind, so you revert to words as you greet her.

"Pyralspite, it's good to see you," you say. She rubs your arm gently with her nostrils. "I was getting worried about you -"

Your nose catches an unfamiliar scent. You turn your head and see a figure sliding off her back.

A troll, riding your beloved Pyralspite as if she was a hoofbeast?

The troll smells of danger and arrogance. You get ready to fight. Pyralspite pushes her nostrils into your armpit, her eyes screaming for forgiveness, whatever it is that she's done.

As the stranger comes closer, you realise that you know who she is. You've seen her face in Pyralspite's memories.

Marquise Spinneret Mindfang.

"Whatever you're doing to my lusus, you will stop immediately," you say.

She's a blueblood, and she's not even looking at you. Her attention is focused on the dragon, her hand patting the scales. Her other arm appears to be made from metal. You remember that Redglare took her arm, sweeps ago.

"Will I do that? What do you say to that, dragon?" she drawls.

Pyralspite huffs into your shirt, then pushes you back. Again, her eyes beg for forgiveness. You understand what's going on. You pat her nose gently. It's not her fault.

"Mindfang," you say coldly. "Release her."

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," she says, still not looking at you. "You know my name, but I don't know..."

She turns, finally, and meets your eyes. In a second, she takes in your appearance, your sign, your horns, your wings.

"Never mind," she says. Something in her expression changes perceptibly. "I know who you are."

You're too angry to be surprised or even worried at this. "I don't care," you snap. "Let her go."

"You're the one they call the Summoner," she drawls on. God, you wish she would stop talking. Wait, what?

"The Summoner?"

You're not known by that name. In fact, it's not a name you've ever worn. It's the first time you've heard about this.

"My name is Rufioh," you say.

Comprehension dawns on her face. "Oh! You're not the Summoner yet. I'm sorry, I -" She frowns. She seems genuinely confused. You notice something stirring in your mind - Pyralspite is taking advantage of Mindfang's confusion and is worming out of the control she has on her. You take her back with open arms, figuratively speaking, and protectively curl your own mind around hers.

_How did she -?_

_I was reckless,_ Pyralspite answers sadly. _I noticed her following me. I got curious and reached out to ask her what she wanted. She's very skilled. She took control. Once the communication between us was established, there wasn't anything I could do._

_It's okay_ , you reassure her. _Everyone makes mistakes._

_I shouldn't have underestimated her_ , she replies.

"Are you quite finished?" Mindfang says.

"What do you want," you growl. Now that Pyralspite is all yours again, your anger is returning. This woman will live to regret what she did to your lusus.

She grins confidently. "I just want to talk," she says.

"I can see that." She's barely stopped doing that since she arrived. You're getting pretty tired of her voice.

"Hey, there, don't be so cold," she says. "We got off on the wrong foot here."

At the same time, you can feel her mind reaching out to yours, probing, twisting. You indulge her only for a moment.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't play your mind tricks on me, Mindfang," you say.

The connection goes both ways. Just before she draws back, you can feel her confusion. She didn't expect you to notice.

"I'm sorry," she says. "It's a habit that's hard to break - now what did you say your name was?"

"Rufioh." She's back in your mind, subtler this time, but not nearly subtle enough. Your curiosity is piqued when you notice what she's trying to get you to do. You allow her to succeed only the tiniest little bit.

Then you reach out with your mind. Not into hers, but towards the dozens of nut creatures hiding in the bushes. Within seconds, they've made their way up Mindfang's legs, scratching and biting in a way that is definitely not life-threatening, but highly unpleasant.

"I said don't," you say calmly.

Her mind withdraws. The nut creatures scurry back into the bushes.

"You're very subtle," you say. "But I share the minds of creatures like these every day. There is no way that you can make me believe your mind is smaller than theirs, no matter how hard you try. I will always notice you."

"I can always invade your mind and bend you to my will entirely," she says, her voice dangerously low now. "I can make you fly high up and then fall to your death."

"But you won't," you say confidently.

She snorts. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't. You're just a fudgeblood and no one will miss you."

"You recognised me when you looked at me," you say. "You called me a name I haven't taken yet. When you went into my mind, you tried to make me love you." There's only one conclusion to be drawn from this.

"Somehow, I'm important to you, even though this is the first time we've met."

She looks like she's about to say something, but before she can, Meulin saunters from her cave. She stills when she sees the dragon, then notices Mindfang and eyes her suspiciously.

Pyralspite takes a sniff. The scent of blood is heavy on Meulin; it always is. You can sense Pyralspite's hostility.

"This is Meulin," you say, talking to your lusus, completely ignoring Mindfang for a moment. "She's a friend."

Pyralspite withdraws a little bit.

"Meulin, this is my lusus," you introduce her. "Her name is Pyralspite."

"Nice to meet you... Pyralspite."

Pyralspite blows a friendly gust of warm air in Meulin's direction.

Mindfang clears her throat.

"If you're quite done with the introductions," she says.

You turn to her.

"Meulin," you say, "this is Marquise Spinneret Mindfang."

Meulin makes no movement to greet her in any formal way. She simply looks at the blueblood with obvious mistrust in her eyes. Mindfang looks from her to you, then back to her.

"Are you the Sufferer's Disciple?" she asks openly.

Meulin's eyes become slits. "How do you know that?"

Mindfang smiles, not unkindly. "I like stories," she says. "And his is a very enticing one."

She's said the wrong thing. Something flashes in Meulin's eyes, and the next moment, she's at Mindfang's throat with her claws. Mindfang steps backwards and draws a heavy, glittering sword, which she wields with ease thanks to her robotic arm. Meulin hisses; you can see a glint of interest in Mindfang's eye.

In less than a moment, the situation has become utterly clear to you. You're going to have to auspistise.

You accept your duty with a sigh and step between them.

"Ladies, please."

They're both looking at you.

"Meu - she didn't mean to offend, okay? And Mindfang - try and be respectful, for heaven's sakes."

Mindfang lowers her sword. Meulin hisses, but withdraws.

Mindfang speaks up again. Her eyes are on Meulin.

"I met his mother," she says. "She was in my service for a while."

Meulin doesn't relax, but you can tell from her face that she's curious. To you, the fate of the Dolorosa was unknown until now; you would like to learn more of what happened to her. It must be more intense for Meulin, who knew her personally and spent a lot of her life with her.

"How did she die?" Meulin asks.

You wonder for a split second how Meulin knows that the Dolorosa died, but then you look at Mindfang's face. Her expression is carefully guarded and doesn't betray much, but enough for you to realise Meulin is right: it's not the face of a highblood who is reminded of a slave she threw out or sold to someone else.

"She was killed by a sea dweller," she says. "Orphaner Dualscar. It's a long story, and not one I'd like to get into."

"Oh, but I thought you liked stories," Meulin says, a glint of malice in her eyes.

You sigh heavily. "Meu," you say calmly. Meulin throws you a look and rolls her eyes.

"You should probably go," you tell Mindfang.

Mindfang throws back her hair and laughs. "Oh, no. I've only just arrived, there's no way I'll leave now!"

There's something aggravating, yet strangely endearing to her. You don't know if you are drawn to her of your own accord or because she wanted you to be; part of you is definitely curious about her, how she knew about you, and why she's interested in you.

"Anyway," she says, "I know where your cave is now, so I could report you to the authorities at any time. You should probably kill me."

The carelessness with which she says it sends chills down your spine.

"Redglare tried that," you tell her. "You and I both know how that ended for her."

You turn to Meulin. "I need to go," you tell her, "I'll be back, there's just a few things I need to take care of. I trust you can deal with this blueblood."

Meulin nods at you, and you spread your nearly-healed wings and take off, Pyralspite not far behind you. It feels good to fly again, and it feels even better to be connected to your lusus again. Through her sensitive ears, you catch some of the conversation Meulin and Mindfang are having.

"Who's Redglare?"

"An old friend. So, Meulin, was it? How about we trade some stories?"

Mindfang isn't going to drag Meulin away and have her executed for treason, you are sure; you don't know Mindfang well, but the things you do know of her, combined with the tiny glimpses of her mind you got earlier, tell you that she is far too selfish to report someone who could benefit her so easily, even if it's just by telling her the stories of the Sufferer.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

You find your Cavalreapers at their camp mid-training. Surprisingly, they haven't torn each other apart in your absence; they cheer and laugh when they see you and the dragon approaching, and crowd around you as you land.

Your close advisor and inofficial second-in-command, Colvea, is the first to greet you. She's a rustblood with a sharp mind and good intuition for strategy and tactics, and apparently she's the one who kept order among the Cavalreapers while you were gone. You praise her for her efforts with a smile, tell her you were chased by some highbloods and had to go into hiding for a few days. When she eyes the wound in your wing, you tell her it's fine, it's barely more than a scratch, you've had worse (you can't actually remember ever having had worse, but you can fly again, and you're not in too much pain, so you're confident you're going to be fine).

The way she listens to your commands, and the way everyone seems to be hanging on your every word, makes you think about Meulin's words; about how she thought that you were a good leader.

You are a leader, you can't deny it. People listen to you.

And with that little bit of reassurance in your heart, you think that maybe, just maybe, you could do it; take the Sufferer's ideas and lead them on, inspire strength in your followers, make them rise up against enslavement and brutality. Your numbers are definitely strong; there are many more lowbloods than highbloods.

You find yourself dreaming of a future where there is no empress and no fuchsia-down caste system; where leaders are chosen by the people and not simply made by their blood colour. Where lowbloods are encouraged to use their psychic abilities, rather than exploited for them.

You remember you promised Meulin that you would be back to visit her, so as the sun rises, you tell Colvea you need her to take command again for a while and set off to find her again. The sun burns angrily down on you even though it's still early in the morning, but Pyralspite, who is a lot better equipped to handle the deadly rays, protects you from the light.

You land only a little later and are surprised to find that Mindfang is still here. You can smell her as you approach, and Pyralspite can hear her voice.

You don't let that stop you in slipping into the pleasantly cool and dark cave. Meulin doesn't look surprised; you can't read Mindfang's expression at all.

"Welcome back, Rufioh," Meulin says. "Sit down, we were just talking."

"No, actually," Mindfang says. "I should go."

"It's day out," you say and sit down. "You can't go, unless you've got a dragon protecting you. And I'm not letting Pyralspite out of my sight near you."

Mindfang glares at you, then turns to Meulin.

"I don't want to talk about it," she says, her voice harsh.

"Now there's a surprise," you say, more to yourself than to her.

"Shut up," Mindfang hisses at you. "This doesn't concern you. You should go."

You wonder what prompted this change of heart; earlier, she was interested in you, and now, she doesn't want you here.

"I want to know," Meulin says softly. "You can't just barge in here, demand to hear all the stories I have about the Signless, and then tell me nothing when I ask about his mother. You haven't even told me how you knew who she was. Did she tell you?"

"Why would I want to tell you?" Mindfang growls. "So you can add her pretty story to your other pretty stories about a crazy troll with a deathwish?"

You have no idea how they managed not to kill each other without you here. You react before Meulin does, flitting across the cave to hold her wrists with your hands.

"Easy," you say.

Meulin glares at Mindfang. "I'm not going to write her story down, if that's what you're worried about," she spits. "I just want to know, that's all!"

Mindfang doesn't say anything.

"She wasn't just his mother," Meulin hisses, her eyes sparkling with rage. "She was my friend, and she was more my mother than my lusus ever was, and she had a life after he died and I demand to know what it was."

"It's not a nice story," Mindfang says.

"Nothing is a nice story, Mindfang," you say softly. "Everyone's life is full of cruelty and sadness and terrible, terrible things, and just because they're normal doesn't mean they're less terrible."

She raises her head and looks at you, and you can feel her mind reaching out to you for a split second before she visibly remembers what happened earlier when she did that, and withdraws.

You see the view in her mind for a fraction of a moment; Meulin kneeling on the floor, a small old woman who is more a warrior than Mindfang ever was, and you, holding her down.

You are surprised by how bright you look in her mind. It could just be from the sunlight falling in through the entrance of the cave behind you.

"Tell us what happened to the Dolorosa," you say.

Mindfang leans back, rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically. "Fine," she says. "It isn't even a long story, or particularly interesting. I saw her, she caught my eye, and I bought her. I knew she was a follower of the Sufferer because he only died a few days before, and most of the slaves they were selling were his followers. I didn't realise she was his mother until later."

"Was Mituna with her?" Meulin interrupts.

"Sorry, who?"

Meulin takes a deep breath, steadies herself. "Mituna - he is - was a mustardblood, a powerful Psionic. Was he there?"

"I don't know," Mindfang says. "I don't know what happened to him. Though I've heard rumours that the Empress took a very powerful Psionic into her service around that time."

It's not what Meulin wanted to hear, you can tell; she covers her face with her hands and you can see her lips tremble.

You know how she feels; the Condesce is notoriously cruel to her slaves, and some would say that being in her service is a fate worse than death.

"He's a mustardblood," Mindfang says. "He's surely dead by now."

Whether Meulin takes solace in that or not, you do not know. You pat her back awkwardly.

"What about the Dolorosa?" you ask, eyes never leaving Mindfang's face.

"What about her?" She shrugs. "She was my slave."

"You said she was killed by a seadweller," you press on, "I'm sure there must be a story behind that."

"There is," she says. "The thing about Dualscar - well, he was my kismesis, but he was always jealous of my red lovers. That's what she was, she was my consort, and he killed her for it. That was barely half a sweep after she came into my service."

"That's ridiculous," Meulin says.

"I know," Mindfang says. Her face still doesn't betray any emotions.

"Was she happy?"

For the first time since you've met her, Mindfang laughs. It sounds harsh and cruel and joyless.

"She was my slave," she said. "Of course she wasn't happy. None of them ever were."

"Did you mistreat her?" Meulin's voice sounds shrill and angry, and you take hold of her wrists again.

Mindfang laughs again in response. "I'm sure there are worse masters than me," she says.

Something isn't right, and you don't know how you know, but you keep holding Meulin down.

"Don't let her get to you," you whisper to her, "she's trying to provoke you into attacking her."

Meulin looks at you, and relaxes a little bit. Mindfang is watching you.

"You're right," you tell her. "You should go."

"You said yourself, it's day now," she says coldly. "I would get burned and die of exposure."

"Well, maybe that wouldn't be so bad," Meulin hisses.

There is absolutely no way you are going to let these two wax black for each other, because you know that would not end well. You get up.

"Pyralspite and I will escort you," you say. "Your hive isn't far from here, right?"

"You're gonna come all the way to my hive with me? Really, Rufioh, I'm touched." She bares her fangs in a grin.

"Ruf," Meulin says. Her eyes speak of worry for you.

"I'll be fine, Meu. I might not be back for a few nights, but I'll come and visit, okay?"

She nods, then hisses once, sharply, at Mindfang. Mindfang gets up and you summon Pyralspite with your mind, telling her what's transpired.

Your lusus isn't happy. She doesn't trust Mindfang, and doesn't want to help her, and it takes some persuading from you to get her to agree to escort Mindfang to her hive.

Usually, you would fly alongside Pyralspite, who is hovering over you, shielding you and Mindfang from the deadly rays of the sun.

"It would be faster to go on the dragon's back," Mindfang complains after it becomes evident to her that she is going to walk. She looks up at you; you're lazily flapping your wings while flying above her head.

"That's not how Pyralspite works," you tell her. "You violated her deeply when you did that, and you'll never do it again."

"Why is she your lusus, anyway?"

You sigh. You would have thought it was obvious. "She adopted me."

"Why would she do that?"

Pyralspite, who hears the question through your mind, huffs. You feel her memories mingling with yours: a stray wriggler weeping over his dead lusus and animals gathering around to give him company; the way their minds touched yours, the way you could feel their thoughts the way your lusus taught you, and Pyralspite making contact with you because she had never seen any troll communicate with animals as easily as you.

You descend and land next to Mindfang, folding up your wings and fluidly turning your flying into a walking motion.

"The same reason why she made contact with you," you say. "Curiosity."

"Only you didn't exploit her shamelessly," Mindfang says. She sounds amused.

"You're proud of that, aren't you?" you say. You can't tell if the feelings of disgust come from you or the dragon; you know that the feeling of slight admiration is yours alone.

"Hell, yes. Not everyone manages to mind control dragons. Though you seem to do fairly well."

"I'm not mind controlling her," you correct her. "We're sharing minds and thoughts, and she has her own free will."

"Boring," Mindfang exclaims.

"No, I don't think so," you argue. "And neither do you."

"You seem to know an awful lot about me," she says, "given you've only just met me."

"I could say the same thing about you."

That shuts her up.

"How did you know all those things about me, anyway? The Summoner is a great title, I'm thinking of adopting it, so thanks for that, by the way."

She groans. "Of course this was going to happen. Fuck, this is why I should never have done that in the first place."

"Done what?"

She sighs. "Okay, believe it or not, I used to have an oracle. Not one of those crappy ones that never actually tell the truth, but an actual oracle that could foretell the future, and it showed me you."

"And you regret asking it?"

"Yes," she says impatiently, "because it's full of shit! I really hate knowing what's coming, it takes the fun out of everything. But I'm stuck with it, and wherever I go I'm presented with all that self-fulfilling prophecy shit, like it's trying to haunt me even though I gave up asking a million sweeps ago, and I'm getting so sick of it. Oracles are a bad idea, so stay away from them."

"I'll keep that in mind," you say carefully. "What did the oracle say about me, though?"

"I'm not telling you, because that would only lead to more self-fulfilling shit."

You can kind of guess, though. "Did it say we would have a - romantic relationship of sorts?"

She stops, turns around and glares at you. "No," she says. "Yes."

You raise your eyebrows and grin. "Flushed?"

"Shut up."

You laugh. "So knowing that the oracle thinks we're going to be matesprits, the first thing you do when you meet me is try and mind-control me into loving you. Is that how you usually do red romance?"

She's blushing furiously now, not looking at you, and starts walking again. "Shut up," she repeats with a growl.

"It is, isn't it? Oh, damn."

She doesn't say anything, just keeps walking, and you follow her. Pyralspite, who hasn't listened to the conversation in favour of watching clouds and enjoying the sun on her scales, tunes in again, and you silently convey the gist of what you've just learned.

Predictably, Pyralspite is vehemently opposed to you having a relationship of any sorts with Mindfang.

"Has everything the oracle ever said come true?" you ask Mindfang.

Mindfang rolls her eyes. "Of course, dumbo. Wouldn't be a good oracle if it didn't, huh?"

"What if I didn't want to be your matesprit?"

"You will be," Mindfang says, "because the oracle never lies."

You ponder that, and come to the conclusion that if you don't fall in love with Mindfang by yourself, she will probably make you, and it will be very non-consensual and unpleasant.

You also wonder if there is any way to avoid that fate, since at the moment, you don't really seem to be falling in love with her. In fact, everything you learn about her only makes you despise her.

(Pyralspite laughs in your head, and points out that you think she's cute, and that you're curious about her. You tell Pyralspite to shut up, and didn't she just say she didn't want you to have a relationship with Mindfang?)

"You really do suck at red romance, don't you," you say. It seems like an observation far more than an actual question.

She actually grins. "Nearly two hundred sweeps, and I've never found any evidence to the contrary."

Your mouth falls open. "You're two hundred?!"

To be fair, you probably shouldn't be that surprised. It's been at least a hundred sweeps since the Sufferer died, and you know she was alive then; she's probably older than Meulin, and only looks younger because she's a blueblood.

"Almost two hundred," she corrects you. "Why, does that bother you?"

"I... no." You swallow. "I'm only fifteen," you supply helpfully.

She laughs - not the cruel, cold laugh you heard earlier, but an actual, genuine laugh that makes you smile almost against your will.

"Fifteen!" she says. "Fifteen. I'm gonna date a child. When I was fifteen, I'd only just had my adult moult!"

"I had mine six sweeps ago," you say. "I'm not a child. Also, we're not dating."

"Not yet," she says, her face smug.

In comparison to you, she's all but immortal. You're only expecting to survive about forty sweeps; she could live for another two hundred. She's going to watch you grow old and die, and barely change during that time.

The prospect scares you.

 _Or you might walk her home and then never see her again_ , Pyralspite interjects.

You somehow doubt it.

"You said the Dolorosa was your red lover," you say, changing the topic again. "You forced her to love you, didn't you?"

Mindfang doesn't say anything for a few moments, and when you look at her, you can see that her face is carefully blank again - just like it was in Meulin's cave whenever she talked about the Sufferer's mother.

"Yes," she says quietly.

"Did she love you?"

"Yes."

"Because you made her."

"Yes," she says.

There's more, way more to the story than what she told you and Meulin in the cave, you sense. You hesitate for a long moment before asking.

"Did you love her?"

Instead of simply blankly confirming again, Mindfang's face hardens.

"It's none of your business," she says harshly. "And no, I didn't."

Rather than being put off by her answer, you shrug. "Hey, I'm just being curious."

She's silent, and remains that way for the rest of your journey.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

When you finally reach her hive, you have to stand and gape for a few moments: her hive is the largest you've ever seen.

"You'll stay for the day?" she says.

"Um." You fidget. "I was just going to fly back with Pyralspite."

"It's late and you should sleep," she says. "You can fly back in the evening. Your dragon can come in too. The doors should be big enough."

She's not wrong, you can see; the doors are massive. Pyralspite lands behind you and rests her head on your shoulder.

"I insist," Mindfang says.

"Okay." You pat Pyralspite's nose and follow Mindfang inside. Pyralspite is a bit suspicious; she's never been inside a building before. But she worms her way through the doors and finds the entrance hall very spacious.

You grin when she admits, reluctantly, that this hive is really cool.

"I have some food," Mindfang says. "Not for the dragon, but I can probably cook up something half decent for you?"

You haven't had anything but roots and berries for days, and you would love a decent meal.

"I'm a plant-eater," you say, hardly daring to hope that she will be accommodating to your preferences.

She doesn't seem surprised. "Not a problem," she says. "I don't have slaves anymore, so I'll be a while. Make yourselves comfortable."

Pyralspite immediately lies down, and you lean against her belly. You're tired, and part of you just wants to curl up and go to sleep, but it doesn't take long for your curiosity to get the better of you, so you get up and follow Mindfang into the kitchen.

The first thing you notice that it's absolutely filthy. There are dirty dishes everywhere, some coated with mold. The floor looks like it hasn't been swept in months, and there's barely any surface available.

"Not used to having to do everything yourself, hm?"

She throws you a dark look and decides not to answer you. Rather than commenting further, you decide to help her: you find a sponge and some cleaning fluids, and attack the stack of dirty dishes.

"You don't have to do that," Mindfang says.

"It's filthy in here, you can't live like this." You've dealt with worse. A lot worse. And cleaning up is one of your less unpleasant duties.

When you look at Mindfang, she's half smiling, half glaring.

"I can live like this just fine," she tells you. "I don't need you to look after me."

"Well, you obviously don't look after yourself, so someone's..." You stop, realising that what you're doing could very easily be interpreted as caring for her. Which you do, in a very weird, twisted way.

"Never mind."

She's still looking at you. She was busy chopping vegetables; now she puts down the knife and comes towards you.

"You are remarkable," she says softly.

You don't have to be a mind-reader to know that she wants to kiss you. It makes you nervous, so you take a step backwards and hastily concentrate on the dishes again.

Behind you, you can hear her laughing.

"Have you had a matesprit before?"

The honest answer is no, but you don't really want to reveal that to her. So you just grit your teeth and wash the dishes.

She seems to decide that it's best to leave you alone, because you can hear her turn around and go back to chopping vegetables.

You don't do all the dishes, only the worst ones, and stack the others. Afterwards, you clear the clean ones away into the cupboards.

In one of them, you find a necklace, half-hidden behind crystal goblets and metal cups.

You take it out, because you think she's probably left it there without realising it, and see that its pendant shows the sign of the Sufferer.

"You're a secret follower?!"

She turns around and her smile fades when she sees the necklace. She comes towards you, takes it and puts it back into the cupboard.

"No," she says.

"Then why..."

"Dinner's ready," she says without looking at you. "Do you want to eat here or take it through, so your dragon can have some company?"

You decide not to press the issue of why she has a necklace with the Sufferer's symbol. Instead, you say, "Her name is Pyralspite. You don't have to keep referring to her as 'dragon'."

She rolls her eyes, almost smiles, and picks up the plates. "Let's go through then," she says. "Pyralspite is surely waiting for you."

She says your lusus's name mockingly, overly exaggerated, and you kind of want to punch her.

There are a few tables and chairs in the hall, pushed aside to make room for Pyralspite. Mindfang sits down at a table and gestures for you to do the same. Instead of following her suggestion, you sit on the floor, your back to Pyralspite's belly.

Mindfang watches you for a few seconds, and then with a deep sigh, gets up and sits down cross-legged opposite you.

"You're not one for making things easy for yourself, are you," she says.

You shrug. Instead of answering, you dig into the food she's made for you: mostly fried vegetables and a bit of bread. You didn't think she would have bread; grubloaf is a lot more common.

It's not the best meal you've ever tasted, but you appreciate the effort she went through to make it.

"So," Mindfang says. You look up and realise she's barely touched her food. "Meulin said you wanted to be a revolutionary."

"I never said that." That doesn't mean it's not true, though.

"Need some tips?" she asks, almost carelessly, as if she was offering you advice on how to dress or cook or build something.

You are quite stunned. "Tips?" you repeat.

"Yeah, Rufioh. Tips."

"What could you possibly teach me?" you ask, and you mean it. She's a highblood; the system works in her favour, not against her. Though you know she's broken laws, she's never had to in order to survive as a free troll.

"Well, as far as I can see, you could probably do with some lessons in ruthlessness, manipulation, cunning, viciousness, and torture," she says.

You shake your head. "Those are highblood things. I don't want to torture anyone."

"You might end up having to, whether you want to or not," she says sharply. "It's a cruel world."

You know she's right. It might be the last thing you want to do, but it has occurred to you that the only way to fight highbloods is by adopting their methods. And you know they fight dirty.

"Why do you want to help me?" you ask her.

She shrugs. "You could benefit from it. Think about it - so many people know my name. An alliance with the notorious Marquise Spinneret Mindfang -"

"Yeah, but what do you get out of it?" You don't trust the bargain.

"Me? Do you really think I'm that selfish? Please, Rufioh, I'm hurt."

You just look at her, unsmiling.

"Okay, okay, yes, I am. So what? I have to be."

You still don't say anything. Finally, she sighs.

"I can't tell you exactly why. But I don't care about the caste system any more than you do. It's a load of bullshit. And I love seeing the higher-ups challenged. Are you gonna fight the Subjugglators?"

You stare at her. "That's your reason? To see another story unfold, right before your eyes, so you can sit down and watch the show?"

She shrugs. "Problem?"

You sigh. You know you're not going to get anything else out of her.

"So," she says, "are you gonna accept my help or not?"

 _She's trying to get close to you_ , Pyralspite comments. She's kept quiet until now, just following the conversation. _She wants you to be her matesprit._

You're perfectly aware of that. But you're also quite tempted to take her offer.

"Maybe in the evening," you say.

She narrows her eyes. "How long can you stay away from the Cavalreapers?"

"Not too long. My second-in-command can handle things for now, but I shouldn't stay away for too long or I'll lose their loyalty."

"Your strategic thinking is excellent," she says with a grin, and you know she's teasing you.

"It's just a fact," you say.

"So we have what, a few nights at most?"

"If I decide to stay," you say, "which I'm not sure of yet."

Her grin says she's quite sure what you'll do.

And you suppose she's right.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she says, a wary glint in her eye.

You hesitate. Now that you have the chance, there's a million things you want to ask her - why she keeps a necklace with the sign of the Sufferer hidden, claiming she's not a secret follower even after knowing you are, or why she thinks she's capable of red romance with you if she's never managed to keep a flushed relationship before, or why she's so cagey about her reasons for helping you.

After a moment of deliberation, you decide on the first.

"Why do you have that necklace, if you aren't a secret follower?"

She bares her fangs in a cruel grin. "Have you had a matesprit before?"

You roll your eyes; she laughs. "Hey, I said you could ask a question. I didn't say I would answer it."

When you don't say anything, she adds, "We could trade. I answer your question if you answer mine."

You sigh deeply and decide to go with it. "No," you say. "I've never had a matesprit."

You can feel her mind pushing against yours, probing gently. She's just seeing if you're telling the truth, you know immediately.

"I'm not lying to you. What good would that do?"

Her mind withdraws.

"How did you know what I was looking for?" she asks.

"You answer my question first," you say, grinning.

Now it's her turn to sigh. "Okay, okay," she says. "I got it on one of my raids, back when I was still a pirate."

"Why did you keep it, then? If you're not a secret follower?"

"Have you ever had a kismesis?"

"You're not playing fair," you complain. She just laughs. "No," you say, resignated.

"Ohhh, so you're a virgin!" You are not sure what to make of the glee showing on her face. "To be honest, I was kind of expecting that. That you haven't had a kismesis, I mean, you really don't seem to be the type."

"Why did you keep the necklace?" you ask her, patiently.

"It's a reminder. A memory, of sorts."

You are peripherally aware of dragon dreams permeating your thoughts. You smile and look down at Pyralspite, who is fast asleep.

She doesn't usually sleep in the company of trolls that aren't you. You realise she trusts Mindfang, even though she's suspicious of her; how that can even be possible is beyond you, but Pyralspite has good instincts. Mindfang isn't going to hurt either of you now.

"Have you ever kissed someone, then?" she asks.

You groan. "I'm not a wriggler, Mindfang. I've been with the Cavalreapers for sweeps. Of course I've kissed someone."

Messing around with your comrades, drinking games or generally pursuing romance has never been your favourite thing to do, but you have participated in enough of them to know what it's like to feel another troll's lips on yours. Over time you found you enjoyed it, though you never really had any feelings for anyone.

"So what does the necklace remind you of - or who?" you ask.

Her smile fades.

"The Dolorosa?" you pry a little bit further.

Her smile is back. "Maybe," she says airily. "She was a good slave, I was fond of her."

"Fond," you echo. "I didn't think it was customary for highbloods to keep memorabilia of their slaves."

"Sometimes," she says. "It's not that important, anyway."

"I see," you say. "Not that you'd tell me if it was," you add quietly, as an afterthought.

She frowns. "How is it," she says, "that you've only just met me, and yet you can read me better than anyone else I've ever known?"

You half-grin. "Destiny?"

She snorts.

You shrug. "I guess it's because I've seen glimpses of your mind. I think your mind control stuff usually only goes one way, right? I seem to be better than most people at turning it around."

"You spend most of your time with animals," she says. "You shouldn't be this good at people."

You shrug again. "Sorry."

"I don't know what I expected before meeting you." She runs her hand through her hair. "But it wasn't this."

"What's this?" you ask.

Her eye seems to stare straight into your soul.

"Well, for one thing, I never thought your psychic abilities would be this good," she says. "Lowbloods can't usually control theirs very well, and they certainly can't tell if they're being controlled. I've never met anyone with such refined abilities."

You seem to hear, faintly, hints of admiration in her voice.

"You weren't supposed to be able to resist me," she adds.

You laugh. "I doubt I could resist you if you used full-on mind control on me. I will always be able to tell that you're doing it, but resisting? That's another matter entirely."

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, she's pressing against your mind with hers. Her presence is a lot stronger than before, and you know you can't turn it around this time, or fight it. Without having any control over what you're doing, you're reaching for her, pulling her close.

Just before your lips meet hers, she suddenly releases your mind.

"Interesting," she says, and her cool breath whispers against your lips.

You are paralyzed, because you were sure she was going to make you kiss her. It is obvious now that she's giving you a choice.

You don't draw back and you don't lean towards her. You just look at her, panicking internally, but you don't resist when she places a hand against your cheek and pulls you closer.

Her lips are soft against yours, and the kiss doesn't last long. You're breathing hard by the time she pulls back anyway, because you don't know if you want this or not and the fact that she's so forward somehow only serves to reinforce both states of mind.

You resolve to find out, and lean in to kiss her. This time, the kiss lasts a little longer, and she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you in. Her tongue is playing with your lips, and after some hesitation, you part them, allowing her in; she lightly runs her tongue over your teeth and you grow bolder, sucking her tongue into your mouth. She gasps softly and you release her, afraid you've gone too far, but when she leans back and you open your eyes to look at her, she's smiling.

"You're not too bad," she says. "And hot. Literally, I mean. I keep forgetting how warm you lowbloods are."

It's this that makes you realise that you've just kissed a blueblood, and that she's not just some fellow Cavalreaper you're fooling around with.

"Sorry," you whisper.

"Hey, don't apologise! It's fine. After all," she smirks at you, "it's meant to be, huh?"

You don't say anything.

"You wanna come up to my block?" she asks softly, her fingertips touching your chin. She's close, her nose almost touching yours, and you're not entirely sure if her grin is dangerous or seductive.

"No," you say hastily, pulling back. "I should probably get some sleep."

"Okay," she says. She's pouting, disappointed. You knew you'd disappoint her, and part of you wants to go with her to her block, but the rational part of your mind is too strong - this is all moving too fast for you, and you're not sure what's happening.

"I'll see you in the evening," you say.

She nods, picks up the plates with your dinner and vanishes. You can hear her in the kitchen - probably just dumping the plates in the sink - and then, heavy footfalls walking up stairs.

You curl in to Pyralspite. Pyralspite registers that you're there even when she's sleeping; she grumbles contently and folds one of her wings over you protectively. You've slept like this since you were a wriggler; nothing has ever made you feel safe like your dragon lusus.

As you drift into sleep, you think about Mindfang; your thoughts mingle with Pyralspite's dreams as you wonder, confused, how you actually feel about her.

By nature, she should be your enemy; and yet here she is, apparently waxing scarlet for you, offering to help you. You've always been a trusting person - too trusting, in many cases, and you can't help but wonder if she's lying to you, how much of what she's telling you is even remotely true.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

You wake in the evening refreshed, but with memories of dark dreams on your mind. Pyralspite wakes at the same time as you, and reprimands you for worrying about Mindfang.

 _You're not actually thinking about taking her offer_ , she says.

 _I'm not sure_ , you answer. _She likes me, I think._

Flashes of memory: her kissing you, you kissing her. Pyralspite groans.

 _You give in to people like this far too easily_ , she tells you.

You agree with her. It's far too simple for people to wrap you around their finger, as Mindfang is doing right now. But you can't seem to stop it.

Before you can say anything to Pyralspite, though, you find yourself being pushed to your feet - not by anyone's hands, but by Mindfang's thoughts.

"Oh fuck," you groan. You instinctively block Pyralspite out; you don't want the dragon to come under Mindfang's control again. You're helpless as she walks you up the stairs, stops you in front of a door, and makes you push the handle to enter what you presume is her block.

She's just getting dressed; she's covered up enough for you not to see any really exciting bits, but you know she's timed it exactly so you can appreciate her body nonetheless.

Which you do, you definitely do, even if reluctantly so.

She turns around and releases the hold she has on your mind.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that," you tell her coldly. "You know it's possible now, but it's not fun."

"It's fun for me," she says.

"Why did you make me come here?"

She shrugs. "I wanted to talk to you."

You groan, frustrated. "There are a million less invasive ways of doing that than forcing me to come up here."

"Oh," she says. "Didn't think of that."

 _This one's gonna be a tough bit of work_ , Pyralspite comments.

 _Yeah, I can see that_ , you tell her.

"So what did you want to talk about?" you ask.

"Your lessons. Obviously." She takes up her shirt and slides it over her head. "Unless you want to do something more exciting?"

 _If she does anything you don't want her to do, I'll smash this hive to bits_ , Pyralspite warns.

It's reassuring.

"Yeah, about that," you say, backing off a little. "Uh. Kissing was nice, and all, but I don't - uh - and also, I really do need to get back to the Cavalreapers."

"Rufioh, don't go yet," she says. She crosses the room and takes your hand with hers. "We only just met."

"Yeah, and it was nice, but, uh, I really need to go."

She steps closer and before you know what's happening, you're kissing her.

Okay, you're absolutely sure she didn't mind control you into doing that. It's really just you, wanting to kiss her, and pulling her closer as you lick her lips. You can feel Pyralspite recoil and withdraw from your mind. It makes you laugh.

When you pull back, Mindfang comes in again. Her robotic arm is a lot stronger than you, but she uses her other arm to pull you close to her; her metallic hand rests against your neck, playing with your earlobe and getting alarmingly close to the base of your horn.

You know if you let her get any further, she will probably not let you stop, so you pull back, breathing hard.

"I need to go," you say again, and before she can pull you in again, you open the door and run down the stairs.

She follows you, as you expected.

"Rufioh," she says.

You slow down at the bottom of the stairs and turn around to look up to her.

"Pretty girl wants to kiss you and you run away," she says. "Don't run?"

It sounds like a question, but you know it isn't one.

"I don't know," you say. "I - I don't know what I want, okay? Give me some time."

She hesitates, then nods.

It's still kind of light, even though the sun has sunk below the horizon. You open the massive door fully to let Pyralspite out, then throw one more look at Mindfang. She's come down the stairs, and she looks small and lonely against the background of the huge, empty hive.

 _Will I see her again?_ you wonder.

 _Of course you will,_ Pyralspite says. _She won't let you get away that easily._

 _How do you know that_ , you ask as you take off with Pyralspite, your wings flapping against the wind and raising you up.

 _It's just the way she works,_ Pyralspite says. You can see flashes of memory: Redglare apprehending Mindfang and Pyralspite burning out her sensitive eightfold vision; and then, months and sweeps after that, when Pyralspite knew Mindfang was searching for her, drawn to her.

You understand. Mindfang has hunted Pyralspite for decades; she became obsessed. And the dragon only burned out her eye. As far as you know, Mindfang's oracle never predicted Pyralspite. Now that she knows who you are and where to find you, she will become a lot more obsessed with you than she ever was with Pyralspite.

 _Exactly_ , the dragon says sadly.

 

 

You find your Cavalreapers almost exactly how you left them. It's still early in the night, so you take over training from Colvea; for the first time in months, you participate in the running and obstacle course, because you need the practice. After midnight, you have lunch and go to the healer to have your wing checked out.

The healers don't know much about the mutation, but as far as they can tell, the wound is healing well; as long as you don't put unnecessary strain on it, you should be fine.

While you're with the healers, you ask them questions. Most of them are lowbloods or midbloods, a little higher on the hemospectrum than you but none of them higher than Meulin. You don't trust them overly much, but you want to know some things nonetheless.

"Hey, have you treated highbloods before?"

"Sure," the healer says. You don't know his name. "Jadebloods in the caverns, some bluebloods, even a sea dweller or two. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering. Is there a medical difference between them and lowbloods like me?"

He grins at you. "Well, apart from the obvious. Most trolls don't have wings."

"But?"

His grin becomes a bit lopsided. "Well, when you become a healer you have to cut open dead trolls to see what we look like inside, right? It's usually lowbloods we practice on, cause there's loads around, but I got fortunate and saw a highblood being cut open once. Far as I know, other than the colour, we're all the same when we're dead. Sea dwellers might have some adaptations for living underwater, but apart from that."

You slip off the seat he's had you sitting in. "So do you think there's a scientific basis for the caste system?"

He laughs loudly. "Of course there is! Are you blind, boy? The different life spans, the resistance to psychic manipulation. They're obviously superior, fuchsia to purple to blue to green, and I'm superior to you, so make no mistake."

 _Why did I have to be born with brown blood_ , you reflect bitterly.

You're quite sure Mindfang would have some interesting things to say, and you regret leaving her like that in the evening.

You thank the healer for treating you and return to your training. This time, you're overseeing new recruits with Colvea.

"They've heard of you," she says. "You're a legend already, and most of them haven't even met you yet."

"Will they follow me?"

She smiles at you. "To the very end," she says.

You trust Colvea.

"Do you see me as your superior?" you ask her.

She raises her eyebrows. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

"Why do you see me that way? Because of my mutation, or my blood, or my status here?"

She frowns at you. "You're asking weird questions. I guess all of it, a little? I know you could beat me in a fight, and your lusus is a fucking dragon. I'm not going to disobey you."

"So I earned your respect, and it's not because I'm higher on the hemospectrum."

"What's this about, Rufioh?" she asks.

You sigh. "I just," you say, "I don't think it's fair, do you? People looking down to us just because we have a certain blood colour. Trolls should have to earn each others' respect, like you respect me because I'm a good fighter. We shouldn't have to answer to the highbloods, or offer ourselves up as slaves, just because they happen to have green or blue or purple blood."

"Saying things like that is dangerous," Colvea says softly.

"But you agree with me, don't you?"

She turns around and pulls up her sleeves just far enough for you to see the sign of the Sufferer tattooed to her wrist.

"Of course I do," she says.

You smile at her, then shout some instructions to the recruits.

"You're not thinking of doing anything about this, are you?" Colvea asks, nervously.

You laugh softly. "I have to."

"Rufioh," she warns quietly. "You can't."

"You don't understand," you tell her. "I can't just do this anymore. The slave collectors are coming, what, next week? We'll have to give up at least fifty people, good trolls, good soldiers, to be mind controlled into slavery and do some rich highblood's bidding for the rest of their lives. Next time, it could be one of us. They don't have any right to treat us like that. We should be free to do what we want."

She just sighs and says nothing.

"I met his Disciple," you whisper. She'll know what you mean.

"No!" She looks at you sharply. "She's dead, isn't she? That's impossible!"

"She's not dead, Colvea." You grin. "She lives in the mountains, not far from here, and I met her. She taught me so many things about the Signless, you wouldn't believe --! Apparently, he dreamed about worlds where the higher castes had to take care of the lower castes, and didn't enslave them - don't you think -"

"Shut up, Rufioh," she hisses.

Two of the other supervisors are approaching, so you take Colvea's advice. You wait until they've walked past and well out of earshot.

"I want to do this," you say.

Colvea closes her eyes and shakes her head a little bit.

"You know everyone will follow you to their deaths," she says. "But that doesn't mean you have to lead them there. If you shut up and sit down, you and everyone else here will live longer."

"If I stand up, our descendants may live better, though," you counter, "and that's a chance I have to take."

 

 

Over the next few nights, you make your main objective talking to people.

You avoid anyone whose blood colour is higher than yours. Fortunately, the largest part of the Cavalreapers is made up of rustbloods and fudgebloods who were forced to choose between slavery or service in the army.

Your reputation proceeds you. You are met with admiration initially, and when you explain your ideas and your plans, you are met with fear and doubt, but a lot more support than you would have thought. You start using the Summoner as a title; it takes on quickly, gains popularity, even with the people you're not trying to rally to your cause. After only days, it's more popular than your actual name.

You make sure you always have at least one animal with you - you prefer the company of rodents, nut creatures, squeakbeasts, hopbeasts, but you like to associate with more dangerous animals too. They're not as easy to control, but you've learned to understand them.

So you have wild meowbeasts or barkbeasts with you, and Pyralspite is standing by in the distance, ready to attack at the slightest danger to you. You know that everyone you talk to knows about your dragon lusus, but you like to think that she isn't why they follow you. By the end of the week, you've rallied almost all lowblood soldiers to your cause, with none of the higher-ups any the wiser.

The success of your mission leaves you deeply satisfied; and yet, when you go to sleep in the morning, your thoughts often stray to a certain blueblooded troll.

Mindfang offered her help, you recall. She wanted this revolution to happen. Maybe she saw it in her oracle, just like she saw you.

It takes a few days for it to occur to you that she's manipulated you; by telling you about the oracle, she made you believe that your matespritship with her is inevitable. By informing you of your future relationship, she has you half in love with her already.

You wonder if you are. In love with her. So far nothing binds you to her but a few words and a few kisses. And yet you think of her when you are training, when you are talking to others, when you are alone with your animals, when you are about to go to sleep and when you wake up in the evening.

You find yourself thinking about leaving the Cavalreapers and paying a visit to her hive, but you know that you won't; your work here is too important.

One morning, only a few days before the slave collectors are due to pay your camp a visit, you find out that you don't need to leave to see Mindfang.

Pyralspite has spotted her at night, approaching the camp. You've told Pyralspite to keep her distance, but sent a few of your subordinates to escort Mindfang to your quarters.

She arrived long before dawn, and you have to wait until training is finished to meet her; you order dinner to be sent to your quarters, along with something to eat for your guest, and are almost ashamed of yourself for how much you anticipate seeing her again.

She's been sitting down, but when you enter, she rises from her chair.

"Rufioh," she says.

"Mindfang." You nod at her and sit down at the table, opposite her. "Dinner is being brought up here. How are you?"

"Not bad. How's your revolution going?"

You roll your eyes. "Did you have to sift through the minds of the people I sent to escort you? They're my subordinates, they trust me, and it won't reflect well on me if my guests start exploiting them."

"Relax," Mindfang says. "I was only looking for information. I doubt they even noticed. Seems like you've gathered quite a crowd."

"Yeah, well, I'll need to have lots of support if I'm going to do this."

She reaches out and her hand curls around yours on the table. "You're going to do this, Rufioh," she says. "I know you will."

"You didn't see that in your oracle by any chance, did you?" you ask warily.

She laughs, crystal clear and refreshing, and you know instantly that you want to hear that laugh more often.

"As a matter of fact, I did," she says.

You chuckle. "Anything else you saw in your oracle that I should know of?"

She releases your hand and leans back. "Probably," she says. "But I'm not gonna tell you."

You roll your eyes. "So what's this, then," you say, "lesson number two in manipulation?"

Her face lights up. "You noticed," she says.

Before you can say anything else, your food is brought in - salad with assorted vegetables for you, grubloaf with sauce for her.

"Thank you," you say to the troll who brought it; he looks from you to Mindfang, grins and leaves without saying anything.

You turn to Mindfang again. "You made him leave, didn't you," you say.

"Wanted to have you all to myself," she confirms, grinning.

You look at your food - you've had a long day of training and you're hungry, but somehow, Mindfang has managed to chase all thoughts of eating from your think pan, and when you look up, you find that she isn't eating either, but looking at you.

You reach for her over the table and she offers her hand.

You want much, much more than her hand.

"You know," you say, "if your goal was to make me absolutely crazy for you, then you've certainly succeeded."

She grins so widely that you could count her teeth if you wanted to. She gets up, and never letting go of your hand, saunters around the table and slips on your lap.

"I missed you too," she whispers, winding her arms around your neck, and then she leans in to kiss you.

You don't hesitate this time. You touch her face and bury a hand in her hair as she kisses you, her tongue playing with yours and your lips hot on hers. She doesn't hold back; only seconds after she initiated the kiss, her fingers scratch your scalp around the base of your horns. You groan into her mouth and she giggles, poking your horns with her robotic hand.

You pull away and she leans her forehead against yours. You untangle your hand from her hair and slip it up towards her horns, running a finger up and down the whole length of it. She moans softly and leans in to kiss you again, her metallic hand wrapping around one of your horns at the same time that your fingers close on one of hers.

You can feel your bulge reacting to her. And you want her, god, you want her like you've never wanted anyone before.

"Where do you sleep?" she whispers between kisses. You push her off your lap, slide off the chair and lead her to the pile of animal furs and clothes on the floor, further back in your quarters.

"Excellent," she says with a grin and pushes you down.

You wind your arms around her slim waist and pull her down towards you, kissing her. For a while it's enough to just feel her, having her hands on your neck and your face and in your hair and on your horns while your fingers explore her skin and hair, but when she makes no sign of moving things forwards, you groan into her mouth and slip a hand underneath her skirt.

She draws back.

"You've never done this before, right?" she breathes.

You shake your head.

"I don't want to move too fast," she says softly.

"You're not," you say. "I... want you."

She smiles and kisses you again. "Okay then," she says, letting her hands wander down to fumble with the buttons of your trousers. At the same time, she allows you to push up her skirt; you release her lips for a few seconds to slip off her boots.

She grins at you. "Guess you made up your mind about what you want," she says.

You just nod, kiss her again and then pull her dress over her head.

 

 

You lie on your back afterwards, with Mindfang curled up to you at the side. Her head rests on your chest and her arm is slung over your torso. Possessive.

"Aren't you meant to eat first?" you ask softly.

She chuckles. "I don't know. Was this a date?"

"Well," you say honestly, "I don't really have much experience."

She laughs into your skin and kisses you; you feel her lips just over your ribs.

"If this was a date, then does that mean we're matesprits now?"

You brush her hair out of her face. She looks up and smiles at you. Her smile is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen.

"I guess," you say.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Mindfang stays longer than you thought. You expect her to leave the next evening and occasionally visit after that, but she stays, has breakfast with you, and waits in your tent as you do your duties with the Cavalreapers for the night. You have lunch with your comrades and you don't see her all night, but when you come back just before dawn, she's still there.

Apparently, she's been writing something; she sits bent over a small leather-bound book.

"What are you writing?" you ask her.

"Just some things," she says. "I used to have a journal that I recorded my adventures in. But I left it with a friend, thinking I wouldn't need it anymore. I was wrong."

"Can I see?"

She grins. "It's a private journal, Rufioh. Even matesprits aren't allowed to read."

"Yeah, like you've ever had a matesprit," you say.

She rolls her eyes and smiles. "Okay then. No judging."

You take the small journal she's offering you and take a look inside.

_Long ago, a prophecy told me a8out the Summoner. 8efore I met him, I knew he would 8e my m8sprit, and that he would lead the gr8test revolution our people have ever seen. However, none of the oracle's predictions prepared me for the Summoner himself._

_Very few people ever manage to walk with the easy grace of a roar8east like the Summoner does. In all history, only a select few trolls ever managed to inspire others to their cause, yet already millions are following the Summoner, loyal to their last 8reath, willing to give their lives for his cause. Every night, slaves rise up in his name, and high8loods suffer for him._

You look up. "Not exactly accurate, is it," you say with a smirk.

Mindfang laughs. "It's a private journal, Rufioh. I can exaggerate a bit if I want to. Maybe one day, someone will find my journal. What kind of impression do you think I want them to have of me? Every storyteller tweaks the story a little so it's told in their favour. Ask Meulin, she would know."

You hand the journal back to her. "Is that what you two talked about?" you ask. "How to tell stories?"

"Among other things," she says with a smug little grin.

You're tempted to kiss that smug grin from her face, and you remember last night and realise that you can, so you lean in and kiss her. You feel her grin into the kiss. One of her hands closes around the base of your horn and pulls you forward gently. You're not sure how it happens, but it ends up with you lying on top of her.

She's laughing. You can feel her belly vibrate against yours.

"Are you free for the rest of the night?" she asks you.

"It's almost dawn," you remind her. "I should sleep."

"Sleep," she echoes. "How boring. I can think of a million things to do that are more interesting than sleep."

You lean down to kiss her. She locks her arms around your neck, pushes up and rolls you around until it's her lying on top of you. She pulls away, grins and sits up, her hips holding down your body.

"So," she says. "The slave collectors are coming tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," you say. You kind of don't want to think about the slave collectors right now, though, with her sitting on your torso and your bulge winding itself out of its sheath.

"What're you going to do about it?" she asks.

"I don't know," you say, leaning up on your elbows. "Everyone knows they're coming, and nobody wants to give them what they want. The way things are now... people could die."

She slips off you and kneels next to you as you sit up completely.

"Get Pyralspite to protect you," she says.

"She'll do that anyway," you tell her. "I'm gonna call a lot of other animals as well. When I talked about people dying, I didn't mean us."

A grin spreads over her face. She leans in and kisses you sweetly.

"Show them, Summoner," she whispers.

 

 

Usually, about five highbloods come to oversee the collection of slaves, with ten to twenty midbloods to carry out their orders. Everyone in your camp knows they're coming; everyone knows what they want.

Almost everybody is very opposed to giving them what they want, this time.

You know your people will have to move fast and surprise them. There is usually at least one skilled psychic among the highbloods; if they realise what's happening too early, your whole plan will fail, every one of you will be executed for treason, and your revolution will die before it ever really started.

Which is why you told Mindfang to keep hidden, but to keep a loose connection with your mind, in case the enemy psychic gets to you; she has more power to fight them, and she wants you to win.

(You considered, briefly, asking her about the outcome of this little rebellion of yours. She had an oracle; surely she knows. But you also remembered her warning, and decided that you don't actually want to know.)

As is customary, Colvea and you meet the slave collectors as they enter the camp. They are riding hoofbeasts. The first thing you do is take the minds of the animals, telling them to remain calm for now.

Pyralspite is not in sight, but you can feel her mind pressing against yours, and you know she's only a few yards away. She's skilled at staying out of sight, but close enough to jump into the action at a moment's notice, as she will probably have to.

The apparent leader of the party is a blueblood, so high in blood that he could well be one of the Subjugglators. As he dismounts, it becomes obvious that he is shorter than you, but somehow, he still manages to make you feel like he's looking down at you as he eyes you with disgust.

"Are you the Commander?"

"I am indeed," you tell him.

"We require slaves, as you're well aware. We will inspect your camp and take as many as we need."

"As is your right," you say calmly. You can feel a spark of amusement from Mindfang - she's there, only just present in your mind, not doing anything, only observing.

"Why are you the Commander, anyway?" the Blueblood asks. "Are there none of higher order than you?"

"We have a few midbloods here," you say, "but most of them are healers or provide other services. I'm the Commander because I am more skilled at fighting than any of them."

"That isn't how it's supposed to work, boy," he growls at you.

You reach out with your mind to the stalking purrbeasts in the bushes.

"I think you'll find," you say calmly, "that that is exactly how it's supposed to work."

In an instant, your animals start attacking them; their hoofbeasts rear and throw them down. Only a few moments later, dozens of Cavalreapers storm past you and are unleashed on the confused highbloods. Within seconds, one of them is dead, while lowbloods threaten the other members of the party with spears, axes, hammers and knives. The leader is on his knees, held down by Colvea with a dagger to neck.

"I suppose this means you're not going to give us our slaves," he snarls.

"No," you say sharply. "They are not my slaves. They are my soldiers, and they are free to do whatever they like."

The blueblood's face twists into a sneer. "Well," he says, "if you're not going to give them to us, I'll have to take them myself."

He doesn't even seem to do anything, but after a few seconds, Colvea's face goes perfectly blank, and she gets up and releases him.

 _He's got her_ , Mindfang says in your mind, but you didn't need her input to figure that out. He's the psychic.

 _Pyralspite_ , you shout. She's there; she's seen everything you've seen, and she rises up behind him.

More lowbloods drop their weapons with empty expressions. When Colvea turns around, raising her dagger to the rustblood closest to her, you start to panic.

 _Kill him!_ you scream at Pyralspite. _Kill him, he's the psychic, kill him before he gets us, kill him!_

You work hard to at least look like you're keeping your cool.

"Yeah, that's not going to work out," you say, just as Pyralspite swoops in behind him and breaks his neck.

The affected Cavalreapers are released immediately. Colvea looks around, confused, but then sees Pyralspite, looks to you and relaxes. Everyone else takes up their weapons again; the highbloods are surrounded.

You make your way through the Cavalreapers towards them, letting your wings fan out behind you. Pyralspite informs you that you make an impressive sight, and you grin, returning the compliment.

"Nobody else needs to die tonight," you tell the slave collectors when you reach them.

One of them is a young woman of slightly lower blood than Mindfang. She looks up at you with hate in her eyes.

"You'll pay for this, peasantblood," she hisses.

Apparently, that is all the encouragement the other slave collectors need; they grab their weapons and attack. Your Cavalreapers weren't expecting it, but they defend themselves valiantly nonetheless. You order your animals to protect you - you are unarmed. Pyralspite is enough of a weapon, though, as she knocks the blueblood woman unconscious.

 _Don't kill her_ , you tell Pyralspite just as she's about to rip her head off. _We need someone to tell the tale to the other highbloods, so they know what's coming for them._

The fighting only lasts for a few minutes. Your lowbloods are far more numerous, as well as prepared for a fight. All the highbloods except for the blueblood you told Pyralspite to spare, as well as half of the midbloods they brought with them are dead.

The other midbloods are caught and brought before you.

"I am the Summoner," you tell them. "What you have witnessed today is only the beginning. You are midbloods, so you are just as oppressed as you are oppressors. Free yourself from the highbloods. Join us and live life in whichever way you want to. Don't let them run your lives."

Six pairs of eyes look at you in different shades of yellow and green.

"I am offering you a choice," you say. "Join us, and fight for our cause. You will find in time that it is also your cause, because freedom from oppression will benefit everyone. If you don't join us, we will execute you as we did your peers."

Two of the midbloods choose death.

You take toll after the short fight. Five highbloods and nine midbloods dead; four new midblood supporters among your ranks. They're with Colvea at the moment, being brought up to speed with the way things are handled at this camp.

Three Cavalreapers gave their lives, as well as two hoofbeasts and one purrbeast. You mourn all of them equally. In a way, you also mourn the enemies you saw die today; they weren't evil, they were only slaves of a corrupt system, but in them, the system would only have lived on.

The captured blueblood is brought to your quarters. You tell Mindfang to keep her unconscious at all costs until you return. You take your time; you help to build funeral pyres for the fallen and watch as the grey smoke rises into the sky, masking the green and purple moonlight.

Something on the horizon catches your attention. It looks like a troll with long, curled horns, clad in green and glittering in a million colours.

 _Pyralspite_ , you say, but the dragon has seen it too. She takes off and approaches the apparition cautiously. Through her eyes, you see it better.

A woman in a green coat; the glittering colours surround her like an aura, brilliant and destructive.

You realise who she is at the same time that Pyralspite does.

The Demoness.

Pyralspite recoils in fear, more fear than you have ever felt her experience; it scares you, too, that your almost invincible dragon lusus is afraid of the Demoness.

 _Run, Rufioh_ , the dragon shouts at you in your mind, _run, she's never a good sign._

You flap your wings and take off to meet Pyralspite in the air.

But when you turn around to check if the Demoness is following you, she's gone - she's disappeared, as if she never even existed.

 

 

Pyralspite is circling the camp, looking for signs of the Demoness. In the mean time, you return to your tent.

Mindfang is waiting for you, along with the bound, blindfolded and gagged other blueblood. She kisses you when you come in.

"I'm proud of you," she says.

You smile and kiss her back.

"Has she been behaving herself?" you ask Mindfang, nodding to the prisoner.

Mindfang shrugs. "She's not had the chance to do much, really."

You decide that dealing with the prisoner can wait a little.

"We saw the Demoness," you tell Mindfang in a low voice.

Mindfang frowns. "I wouldn't have thought she would show up this early."

You raise your eyebrows incredulously. "You didn't think she would show up _this early_?!"

"You should take it as a good sign, Rufioh," she continues. "It means your revolution is headed somewhere great."

You sigh. "You know something about her that other people don't. Right?"

Mindfang shrugs. "Maybe I do. She's just a troll, don't worry about her."

"Just a - you've never seen her, have you?"

"No," Mindfang says. "Why, is she special?"

You groan softly. "She's not just a troll. She has special powers, she must have. My dragon lusus is scared of her, for goodness sakes! And you didn't see her, she's -"

"Okay, okay," she says, her fingers hovering over your lips. "Hey, calm down. It's okay, I get it."

"I'm not sure you do," you say from between her fingers.

She laughs and takes her hand off your mouth.

"So what is it you know about her?" you ask Mindfang.

She tilts her head. "Not much, really," she says. "When I was very young, I knew a man who called me his protegee. I got the oracle from him. She is his Handmaid. She has to do his bidding."

"A man," you echo. "Who?"

"It's not important."

"It could be," you argue. Mindfang rolls her eyes.

"I'll tell you all about it later," she says. "Now deal with your prisoner."

You nod. "Will you wake her up?" you ask her.

"Yes, and then I'm leaving. It's important that she doesn't see me."

"Why can't you stay?" You would probably feel better with Mindfang here.

She sighs. "I told you. I can't be associated with this rebellion. It would be bad for you. Nobody can know that I'm supporting you, okay?"

"You told me a few days ago that it would be good for me to have your support. Your open support."

Mindfang sighs again. "I thought it over and changed my mind."

"Yeah, okay, okay." You huff and push your hair away from your forehead. "I don't get it, but okay."

She leans in and steals a kiss.

"It will all make sense later," she whispers.

Then she draws back and raises her hands to her forehead, focussing on the prisoner. The blueblood stirs.

"She's awake," Mindfang tells you. "I'll find you afterwards."

You nod. She kisses you again, holding you close for a long moment, and slips out of the tent.

You focus on your prisoner. You remove her blindfold and her gag. You reach out with your mind until you find Pyralspite, hovering over the camp, and tell her to come to your tent.

"Do you know who I am?" you ask the prisoner.

She spits at you. "You're a peasantblood who's managed to stage a slave revolt. You're a dead man."

You don't let her words disturb you. Instead, you pull up a chair and sit down opposite her.

"I am the Summoner," you tell her. "And I will bring justice to this planet. Do you understand?"

"There is no justice," she growls. "You will die, your followers will die, and your animals will die."

"Eventually, yes," you say calmly. "But not by your hands. Tell your superiors that the Summoner is coming for them. You will be escorted out of this camp by my lusus. You know, the dragon? Don't try anything, it wouldn't end well for you."

You untie her bounds and lead her outside. She screams when Pyralspite takes her into one of her great talons - _gently_ , you remind her - and you watch as the dragon carries your prisoner to the edges of the camp.

 _Are you sure it's wise to let this one live?_ Pyralspite asks you. _She will tell all the highbloods, and they'll hunt you down._

 _That's the point_ , you tell her.

Just before you go back to your tent, you issue the command to pack up and move the camp before dawn breaks.


	8. Interlude

Several dozen light sweeps away, the Empress is taking a bath in her private quarters on her flagship. Being interrupted by her advisors with news from Alternia is rude, but necessary.

"What is it?" she asks impatiently.

"Your Condescension," the messenger says. His fins twitch slightly. "As usual, most of Alternia is under perfect control."

"So what?" the Empress demands. "You wouldn't interrupt my bath with the news that there is nothing wrong. Would you?"

"No, your Condescension," he says nervously.

"Well then, out with it," she says.

"There's been a slave revolt," the messenger says.

The Empress laughs. "Well, this should be interesting. Haven't had one of those in a while. Anything I need to take seriously?"

"Possibly, your Condescension." He glances nervously down at the piece of paper where the information is written. "It was initiated by a faction of the Cavalreapers. Their leader calls himself the Summoner, and it is said that he has extraordinary control over animals."

"So you're telling me I should be worried about a little buoy playing with kittens? What is he, a mustardblood?"

"Not even, your Condescension. Only a fudgeblood."

"Hmmm." She orders one of her slaves to her side with a look and leans back as her hair is being brushed. "Tell the subjugglators to deal with him. I'm sure the Grand Highblood would love to decorate his wall with a little more peasantblood."

"Yes, your Condescension." The messenger bows and backs out of the block.

The Empress closes her eyes. "More hot water," she orders her slaves. "And wash my hair."

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

The Cavalreapers have packed up and are ready to leave within a few hours - a lot faster than you thought they would be. Apparently, word has gotten around that you let the blueblood go; not everybody seems to agree with you.

Which is why, just before you leave, you decide to make a public announcement to all soldiers in your camp.

You've never been good at speaking, but you know you have to.

"My fellow Cavalreapers," you begin, thinking that you sound incredibly stupid.

"You all know that we defied highbloods this evening, and that that is the reason why we need to move now. You know that a few of us have given their lives for this cause, and I could not be more honoured to have known them.

"Now, as most of you will know, we took a blueblood captive during the fight. As most of you will have heard, I let her go a few hours ago. Now, I know that this might seem like a bad and dangerous decision, because it will get the highbloods to pay attention to us. I can assure you that it was most definitely a bad and dangerous decision."

 _Way to sell your cause_ , Pyralspite comments, amused.

"But I had my reasons for doing it, and for your benefit I'm going to try and explain," you continue, ignoring your lusus. "You see, if we want to change something, we have to make sure people know about it. Lowbloods most of all, of course, which is why I intend to send messengers to other Cavalreaper camps to spread the word. But it's just as important that the highbloods know. You know them. Highbloods love to gossip, and most of them have slaves. Their slaves will be alerted to the existence of this movement and maybe inspired to break free. And not least, word will reach the Empress herself, who at the moment is far, far away from here - if we want to overthrow her, we need to find a way to get her to come back to this planet."

You look at your comrades. Some of them look understanding, some enthusiastic, some doubtful.

"That's why I let her go," you say, "so Her Imperial Condescension will be alerted to this, and so she will turn her ship around and come to face me, because that's the only way that we can ever win."

You're not sure how to end your speech, so you just nod at them and climb down from the chair you were standing on. A few Cavalreapers start cheering; soon others join in, and you find many of them rushing to meet you to clap your back, to ruffle your hair and to shake hands with you.

"Summoner!" they shout. "Summoner!"

It makes you feel uncomfortable, but you smile at everyone until the chanting dies down.

"We need to move camp now," you say. "Colvea?"

She's there, at your side, ready to take orders.

"Make sure everything is moved out as soon as possible," you tell her. "I'll send animals to obscure our trail so we won't be followed. I'll meet you at the new campsite, okay?"

"Where are you going?"

"I'll visit a friend. I'll send Pyralspite with you for protection."

Colvea frowns. "Are you sure you won't need more protection than us?"

You laugh lightly. "Two thousand Cavalreapers are a lot easier to spot than a single troll. Besides, I can get hundreds of other animals to help me if I need to."

She nods. "I'll see you when we're there, then," she says.

You smile at her and spread your wings to take off.

 

 

You find Mindfang on her own, a few miles away from the Cavalreapers. You've been busy overseeing packing and assuring everyone that everything would be okay, so you haven't had time to check on her; you saw her slip out just before your tent was taken down and you haven't seen her since.

"Where are you going?" you ask her, landing next to her.

She half-smiles. "Home," she says. "I can't come with you."

"Of course you can," you argue immediately. "I want you with me."

"I wouldn't be much use to you," she says. "And I don't like being useless. I'll be in my hive, okay? You know where it is, you'll find me."

You reach for her hand. "I don't want you to leave," you say softly.

She stops and turns to you.

"Of course you don't," she whispers, and kisses you. You pull her close to you and run your hands through her hair. When she pulls back, you're close to tears.

"There now," she says, caressing your cheek with her thumb. "Don't you go crying on me, Ruf. You're not a wriggler, are you?"

"You seem to think I am," you say before you can stop yourself.

She laughs quietly. "No, no," she says. "No. You're young, Rufioh, but you're not a child. And I know you can do this, even without me."

"But I don't want to." You press your lips together. "I love you."

"Isn't it a bit too early to say that?" she teases you. "After all, it's only been a few days."

"Long enough," you say and kiss her again.

She chuckles. "I love you too," she whispers. "Can you believe that's the first time I've ever said that to anyone?"

You draw away from her and laugh. "Yeah," you say. "Funnily, I can."

She kisses you.

"You should get back to your camp," she says.

"Actually, I was going to visit Meulin before I do that," you say. "Also, you should come with me."

"To Meulin's, or to your camp?"

"Both," you say.

She sighs. "I can't."

"And why?" you challenge. "You haven't explained that to me, you won't tell me why, all you say is it'll make sense later. Isn't communication part of this whole matespritship thing?"

"Yeah," she admits, "but there are some things I can't tell you. Not yet. Trust me, okay? Do you trust me?"

She's holding your hand with her metal one and caressing your cheek with the other. You look into her eyes, the normal and the red one.

"I think so," you say softly.

She laughs. "You shouldn't, really. But that's done now. I'll tell you when you need to know. Now go see Meulin. And do come visit me every now and then, will you?"

You smile. "Of course I will."

 

 

You reach Meulin's cave just before the sun rises. Meulin is incredibly happy to see you - as soon as you enter, she rushes to greet you and throws her arms around your neck.

"Hey there," you say with a grin.

"I was worried about you," she says. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you tell her. "Has the news reached you that my first official slave revolt was a roaring success?"

She laughs, delighted like a little girl. "Was it? Oh, that's wonderful to hear! Come in, tell me all about it."

You proceed to tell her about what happened, and by the time you're finished, the sun has come up and there is a worried look on Meulin's face.

"What?" you ask.

"You're very bold," she says. "We were never like that, we would always preach and then move on and we always just preached to people we knew would like what we were saying. We never drew attention to ourselves."

"Well," you say, "I'm not saying I like the attention, but I'm sure we'll need it if we ever want to come further than a few slave revolts."

Meulin smiles. "Do you really think you can overthrow the Condesce?"

You shrug. "Maybe. It's definitely worth a try, isn't it?"

"What about her lusus?"

Shit, you forgot about that. The Empress's giant sea monster is legendary and allegedly has the power to wipe out the whole species; you've never really believed those claims.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," you say with a sigh.

Meulin chuckles. "Yeah, I guess that's what's important," she says. "Besides, with your powers, maybe you could control it."

"Maybe," you say, not feeling too hopeful; controlling animals and lusi gets more difficult with size and age, and the Condesce's lusus is supposed to be the biggest and oldest there is.

"Speaking of lusi," Meulin says. "I have a favour to ask of you."

"Anything," you say, and you mean it. Meulin has done more for you than you could ever pay back; she sheltered you when you were injured and gave you crucial information to start your revolution.

"The Signless... he made this prophecy, and I'm not sure if I should take it seriously or not, but if it's true, then I need help," she says. "He foretold another Signless, a grub that would hatch centuries from now, to continue his work and lead our people into a better world. Kankri didn't have a lusus to raise him, and we can't rely on the chance that there will be another Dolorosa to raise this second Signless. You know so many animals and lusi. Do you think you can - somehow - make sure that when he comes, he'll have a lusus?"

"That shouldn't be too hard, as long as you have something that smells like him," you say.

Meulin's face lights up. "I do!" she says. "Hang on a second." She bustles off into the back part of her cave and comes back clutching a pair of bloodstained, filthy, torn leggings.

His leggings. The blood on it is cherry red.

"This is what he wore when he died," she whispers. "I've held on to them, prayed with them, slept with them, but it's time to let them go."

You feel like this is a sacred moment as she hands the leggings over to you. You take them carefully, awed by the fact that you're holding clothes the Sufferer wore before he died. Awed by the fact that even though it was a hundred sweeps ago, you can still smell his blood.

His cherry red blood which smells so unlike any other troll blood that you've encountered before.

"Thank you," you say. "I'll bring them back to you."

She nods solemnly.

"Don't leave yet, though," she pleads.

You smile. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. It's day out, and Pyralspite is with the Cavalreapers. They should have set up camp somewhere by now - probably only temporary." It reminds you that you were going to command animals to mask their trail.

"Hang on", you say to Meulin, then close your eyes and reach out with your mind. In the area where your camp was, dozens of diurnal creatures are now snacking on the remaining food and exploring the strange landscape without trolls. The best animals for masking trails are small animals - hissbeasts, squeakbeasts, nut creatures. You send a delegation of them along what you can see through their eyes as the Cavalreapers' trail and instruct them to make it invisible. They get to work immediately.

When you open your eyes again, you find Meulin smiling at you.

"Sorry," you say, "just had to make sure my comrades are safe. Well, as safe as they can be, now the highbloods know about us."

"You're a good man, Rufioh," Meulin says.

You half-smile. "I'm not so sure about that," you say wryly. "I mean, it's a good cause and everything, and it could make everything better if we succeed. But do I really have the right to drag my comrades into this? What if they would prefer everything to stay the way it is just now?"

Meulin just looks at you.

"Did he - did he ever have doubts?" you ask softly, clutching the Sufferer's leggings.

Meulin sighs.

"Yes," she says. "He did. But he did what he needed to do anyway, because he knew he had to."

"And I know I have to as well," you mutter. "It's just - it's hard sometimes. I'm putting everything at risk, not just my own life, but the lives of countless other trolls, as well as all the animals and lusi I control. Maybe I shouldn't have been given that sort of power."

"But you were given it," Meulin says. "And you need to do this. You will fight and you will succeed or die fighting and just by living, you will have made the world a better place. Doubting yourself won't accomplish anything."

You nod.

"Believe in this," Meulin says, taking the leggings and pushing them into your hands. "Believe in what he died for."

"I do," you say softly. "And I'll do what I need to do. Thanks, Meulin."

She comes in and gives you a hug. You put your arms around her and allow yourself to relax for a few seconds.

"So," she then says and pulls back. "Now that we've talked about the serious stuff, let's get to the interesting things! You and Mindfang, huh?"

You blush. "I don't know what you mean."

Meulin laughs. "Oh please, she wanted you from the moment she saw you. And last time I saw you, you and her left together. Soooo...?"

You look down and fidget. "Okay," you then admit, "okay. Um. We're matesprits, I guess."

She raises her eyebrows. "That was quick."

You half-smile at her and shrug. "She's an attractive lady."

"And she seems to know how to seduce inexperienced young lowbloods," Meulin adds.

You laugh. "Indeed."

"Are you happy?"

You shrug again. "I don't really know what happiness feels like. But when I'm with her it feels like the whole world stops for a while and there's nothing to worry about. I can talk to her about how I'm planning my revolution, but she can make me forget everything about it as well. I like being with her."

Meulin smiles. "You love her," she says.

"I guess so."

There's something sad about her smile.

"What is it?" you ask her.

She looks at you. "Nothing, really," she says. "It just... it reminds me of when I met Kankri."

"I'm sorry," you say at once. "Of course it would - I mean -"

"Shut up, Rufioh."

You oblige and stare at her. She stares back, her green eyes fixed on yours.

"She's bad news," she says.

"Who, Mindfang?"

"Yeah," Meulin says. "I wouldn't trust her, if I were you - it's probably too late for that. But I should warn you. She - she's obsessed with you, it's obsession, not love, and it's not healthy."

You shake your head. "How would you know that? You barely know her."

Meulin sighs. "I know. I'm older than you, and I can tell, and I've been in that situation, and I know."

"Why does it remind you of Kankri? I thought your love was supposed to be all-encompassing and pure, surpassing the quadrants and all that?"

"Yeah," Meulin says sadly. "It was, and it wasn't healthy. The quadrants are there for a reason, Rufioh, and having a relationship outside of them isn't meant to be. Don't get me wrong, I loved him and I don't doubt that he loved me, but - for far too long, it was obsession, not love, for me at least." She swallows. "People idealise our relationship and say it was the most perfect thing on Alternia. I would have agreed, but his mother - she knew better. She tried to tell me and I didn't listen."

She looks at you.

"Our relationship was all about him," she whispers. "There was no room for me. I was his Disciple, I recorded everything he preached, I did everything for him. He loved me in return. It was enough, it still is, and I know that if I was to go back in time, I'd do it all over again, every time. But it wasn't healthy. And it took me a long time to realise that, and even longer to come to terms with it."

You try to speak and realise you've clenched your jaw.

"I don't know why you're telling me all this," you say coarsely.

She sighs.

"It's not the same thing," she says softly. "It isn't, but I feel like it is. Mindfang - she told me she saw you in an oracle. That's the only reason why she gives a shit about you, because she knows she's supposed to, and if she didn't, she wouldn't look at you twice. She doesn't love you, or maybe she does, but in any case, this isn't how red relationships are supposed to work."

You get slightly annoyed.

"You just told me that your relationship was unhealthy," you say, "and still you're trying to explain to me how my relationship is supposed to work."

"No," Meulin says, "no, Rufioh, I'm just trying -"

"I love her," you say. "And nothing you'll say can change that."

Meulin takes a deep breath. "Okay," she says. "Okay. I'm just - oh, whatever, forget I brought it up."

"You're worried about me," you say. "I get that. But I can look after myself, I promise."

She looks at you, her eyes betraying scepticism.

"All right," she says nevertheless.

For a while, neither of you say anything. Then she tosses you the spare blanket you slept in while you were staying with her when you were injured.

"We should sleep," she says.

You agree with her and lean over to blow out the candle at the door.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, you hear her voice.

"Will you ask Mindfang about Porrim? I mean, the Dolorosa."

"I thought she told you about her," you mutter sleepily.

"Not everything. There's more, I know there is. Please ask her?"

"Yeah, okay," you say. "Sleep well, Meulin."

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend that you go and read Manipul8, the first story in this series, if you haven't already :)  
> It's not absolutely necessary, but events in Manipul8 are referred to rather heavily in this chapter.

 

 

You wake before the sun sets and get ready for the night. By the time Meulin stirs, you are almost ready to leave.

You've reached out with your mind to all lusus species you've ever made contact with and asked them to come together at a location that's between Meulin's cave and your new camp, so you're planning to meet them on your way there.

Meulin hugs you tight before you leave.

"Thank you for doing this," she says, pointing to the leggings you're holding. "Good luck."

"Thanks," you say with a small smile.

"And Rufioh," she says.

"Yes?"

"I know you don't want to hear this," she says earnestly. "But please keep in mind that Mindfang is dangerous, okay?"

You sigh. "If it makes you happy."

Meulin half-smiles. "That's all I can ask for," she says. "Now off you go, and don't forget me. I want to hear how that revolution of yours is going."

You nod at her, and with the very last rays of the sun reflecting off your wings, you take off.

 

 

Pyralspite is already on her way. You meet her halfway to the meeting point and explain to her what this is about. You carefully avoid mentioning anything Meulin said about Mindfang, but Pyralspite knows you far too well; she picks up on your stray thoughts, your worries that Meulin might be right.

_What's the matter?_ she asks.

_I'll tell you later_ , you say. You land as you arrive at the meeting point; you quickly scan the region, as well as the minds of the lusi that are gathered, for potential threats. For now, you are safe here.

About a hundred different lusi have congregated and they all crowd around you. You know a few of them personally and take some time to connect to the others as well, to get to know them, to get a feel for their personalities. Most of them are lowblood lusi; only fitting, you think, as the Signless would be regarded as the very bottom of the hemosprectrum due to his mutation.

You take out the leggings and lay them down in front of the lusi.

_Okay_ , you tell them in a large enough mind voice that everyone will hear you. _It has been said that a grub will come, centuries from now, who will have this blood colour and this scent._

As you expected, the lusi shy away from the leggings; the blood smells abnormal, unlike anything they've smelled before.

_He will need a lusus_ , you continue.

A few of the bolder lusi edge forwards towards the leggings again, sniffing them.

_Can you breed a lusus who will be sympathetic to this scent and take this grub to raise him?_ you ask.

You can feel confused thoughts and mental mutterings.

_You know_ , Pyralspite says, _usually the lusus has the same blood colour as the grub it's raising._

_Yes, I know_ , you tell her.

Finally, one of the lusi steps forward. He's a large crab with lime coloured blood.

_I'll do this for you, Rufioh_ , he says. His voice is clearer than most animals and lusi you commune with; it gives you hope. _This colour smells most similar to lime, and I think I can figure something out._

_Thank you_ , you say earnestly. _It means a lot_.

You watch as the crab lusus takes the leggings and carefully scrapes off some of the blood with his claws.

_You'll want these back, I assume?_ he says.

_Yes, please_ , you say. He scuttles over to you and hands them to you with his claw.

_Thank you_ , you say again. _You need something to put that blood in?_ You're quite sure you have some small vial or flask on you, and after searching through your pockets for a bit, you find it. The crab lusus takes it from you.

_This is gonna be a tough piece of work_ , he says, sounding slightly grumpy. _Better get to it_.

You smile as the lusi disappear, leaving only Pyralspite behind. She nuzzles your chest and you pat her head; when you sit down, she sits in front of you and puts her head in your lap as you scratch her scales over her neck.

She reminds you of an oversized barkbeast puppy sometimes.

_I heard that_ , Pyralspite says sleepily.

_Puppy_ , you reply, grinning.

_Hmmmm_. She pushes closer to you. _I don't have hands, so don't you dare stop scratching my neck._

You sit like this contently for a while. It's nice - you don't have much time for your lusus anymore, and sometimes you think you're not giving her enough attention.

_It's okay_ , she says. _I love you anyway._

You keep scratching her neck and she yawns.

"Don't fall asleep on me," you say out loud, laughing. "We still need to get to the camp."

_Yeah, I know_ , she says. She lifts up her head and looks at you.

_So what was that thing that you wanted to tell me about?_ she asks. _Something with Meulin._

You sigh and sit up straight. _I never said I wanted to tell you about that_ , you say.

She just looks at you, her red eyes burning through yours, and you know that you would be blind if she wanted you to be - after all, it was her who took Mindfang's eye.

_Okay, okay_ , you submit. _Meulin is, uh. Worried about my matespritship with Mindfang. She thinks it's unhealthy, or something._

_Unhealthy in what way?_

You silently show her your memories of the conversation. You feel hints of anger burning and know that it's not from Pyralspite. You don't want anyone to question your relationship; you just want to be happy.

Pyralspite sighs.

_She's not wrong_ , she says carefully.

_See, this is why I didn't want to tell you about it_ , you retort, slightly annoyed. _I knew you'd agree with her. You're a dragon, what would you know about troll relationships?_

Pyralspite huffs. _You're just a child, Rufioh_ , she says, and unlike you, she's properly annoyed. _You don't know anything. I'm older than Mindfang and I've raised others before you. Redglare had matesprits and she knew how to have successful relationships. You have no idea. Meulin is right, and you should listen to her._

_What if she's not?_ you argue fiercely. _What if you're both wrong, and I'm right?_

_Rufioh_ , she says, _we're just worried -_

_No_ , you snap. _You just don't like Mindfang_.

_And I have good reason to!_ she shouts. _She killed Redglare! She mind controlled me and she made me carry her! But that's not why I'm saying this!_

_You don't like her and you don't want me to be happy with her_ , you accuse her. You're aware that Pyralspite thinks you're being childish, and you know she's right, but you just want everyone to shut up about your relationship; it's your relationship, you love Mindfang, and it's none of anybody else's business.

_Stop being ridiculous_ , Pyralspite snaps. _Of course I want you to be happy. She's just not someone you'll be able to be happy with._

_But I am happy_ , you snarl. _If you would just leave me alone and allow me to be happy, I would be! I love her._

_I'm sure you do_ , she says. _But she's not good for you_.

_Will you shut up_ , you tell her. You don't wait for her answer, but block her out and get up. You don't look to see if she's following as you take off, furiously flapping your wings even though you know very well that she's faster than you and can catch up with you within seconds if she wants to.

Surprisingly, she leaves you alone, though, and when you do look back, you can see her heading into a different direction.

She'll be back, she always is, and you will calm down enough eventually to stop blocking her out. For now, you're glad she's gone.

By the time you reach the camp, your anger is gone and you feel guilty. You and Pyralspite don't fight often, but you always hate it when you do, and you know that she's just looking out for you.

Colvea greets you as you land.

"Most tents have been put up, and there's training scheduled for tomorrow," she says. "Will you oversee it?"

"Yeah," you say. "Where's my tent?"

She points. "Over there. Where's your lusus?"

"She'll be here later," you say, not wanting to tell Colvea about what just happened. None of your Cavalreapers know about your matespritship with Mindfang; you doubt anyone recognised her as the Marquise when she came to visit you a few nights ago. You still don't know what reasons Mindfang has for keeping your relationship secret, but you don't want to go around telling people about it, even though you would trust Colvea with your life.

"We picked up some people on the way," Colvea says. "Former slaves who were inspired by the revolt to run away from their masters. I've told them they can stay with us, and we'll find a way for them to make themselves useful, but if they want to leave, they can."

"Good," you say. "I'd like to meet them."

 

 

When you go to sleep that morning, you miss Mindfang. You want her to be here, you want her head to rest on your chest and you want to feel her skin under your fingers. You want to look into her eyes and you want to hear her say that she loves you.

Because if she loves you as much as you love her, then everything will be okay.

In the evening, you find that more escaped slaves have found their way to your camp; apparently, they've been led here by their lusi or other animals who knew where to go. In response to that, you tell the newcomers the same thing Colvea told the others; after that, you contact animals you know, telling them to keep leading escaped slaves to you.

"Isn't it dangerous?" Colvea asks you one night. "One of them could lead highbloods to us. Maybe even subjugglators."

"We'll deal with them when it happens," you tell her.

In addition to that, you find a few soldiers you trust and send them to other Cavalreaper camps to spread your words. You'll need as many allies as you can get.

Pyralspite comes back two days after you returned to the camp. You make up with her, but both of you are careful to avoid the topic of Mindfang.

After three nights, you can't bear it anymore and leave the camp well before dawn. The journey to Mindfang's hive is a little longer than it was from your former location, but you're flying, so you make it there in less than an hour anyway.

When you knock on the door, she opens far sooner than you would have expected her to. Her whole face lights up when she sees you and she drags you in for a kiss before you know what's happening.

Kissing her is just as wonderful as you remember, and for a moment, you forget everything. She curls her arms around you, drags you inside her hive and closes the door behind her.

"I missed you," she purrs into your skin.

You laugh and stroke her hair. "I missed you too," you say. "So much."

She kisses you again, and you know you're in the massive, empty entrance hall and it's less than inviting but you can feel her cool skin under your hands and you want her desperately. She seems to feel the same way; she moans into your mouth and slips her hands underneath your shirt.

You kiss her hungrily and raise a hand to touch her horns; she groans in response, pressing herself closer to you, and you let your other hand wander to her back to undo the zip of her dress. At the same time, you can feel her working on your trousers; your bulge is out and ready for her already.

She pulls back and leans her forehead against yours.

"I don't think this is the best place to do this," she says and you giggle. She kisses you again, still hungry but sweeter this time.

"Let's go upstairs," she whispers.

You grin. "There's plenty of space down here. Tables, walls, the floor..."

She shuts you up by kissing you on the lips and then on the nose. "I haven't seen you in days, I want to make this special."

You smile at her, your heart warming. Pyralspite and Meulin are wrong, you're sure of it - how can they not be, when Mindfang looks at you like this?

"Okay then," you whisper. Your hand finds hers almost automatically, and it's awkward to walk with your bulge out and you can tell that she's in a similar state but you're both laughing all the way to her block, where she closes the door behind her and pushes you down on the sofa gently.

You kiss her and take off her dress slowly, pausing to admire the view. She makes a small impatient noise and you chuckle as she pulls off your trousers and then your shirt. You can't think of anything other than how beautiful she is as she pushes you down so you're lying on your back, her long hair falling into her face and tickling your chest.

She leans down and kisses you again and you hold her, one hand caressing one of her horns gently. You can feel her bulge pressing against your thigh and then her hand on your bulge; you moan as she strokes you and sits up, stroking your bulge against her nook.

She sinks down on you, her cool nook sheathing your bulge in the most wonderful way, and you lean up to curl your arms around her as she slowly starts to move. Her metal hand has found one of your horns and you gasp into her hair with every stab of pleasure shooting through you from your bulge and your horns. You reach down between you to take her bulge into your hand and she moans loudly, moving faster.

Her nook is so perfect around your bulge and the way she squeezes it drives you so crazy that you're close to pailing after only a few seconds. She seems to notice, and she slips off you to reach down and get a bucket from somewhere. She kisses you as you pail, and you're almost too overwhelmed to go on, but somehow manage to keep pumping your hand up and down her bulge until her breath comes faster and she adds her pail to yours.

She leans her forehead to your shoulder and you gently stroke her hair. When she looks up, you push a few strands of slightly sweaty hair out of her face.

She kisses you gently, the leans in to you again and starts purring.

You realise you're purring too. You're warm and content and happy. All your worries are gone, replaced by the scent of her and the feelings she manages to induce in you.

At least for a few minutes; then you remember what Pyralspite said, and what Meulin said, and you have to look down at her and you can't help but wonder if Mindfang is all she says she is.

And you remember what Meulin asked you to do.

That's probably an easier thing to ask Mindfang than telling her that your friends think your matespritship is unhealthy; you have no idea how she would react to that.

"Hey," you say softly.

She looks up at you. "Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

She turns around slightly and settles against you. "Sure," she says.

"What exactly happened with the Dolorosa?"

Mindfang's purring stops abruptly. You tense. You can't shake the feeling that you've just made a mistake.

Except she turns around again so she's sitting cross-legged, facing you.

"Okay," she says softly, "I suppose you deserve to know."

You wait.

"She was - the closest thing I had to a matesprit before I met you," she says. "She wasn't just my slave... I mean, she was, and I... I bought her to be my consort because she was pretty and looked interesting. I made her trust me and love me with my mind. It... it was easier than it should have been, I guess she was sort of attracted to me anyway, I don't know."

She looks down and doesn't meet your eyes.

"She was good," she continues quietly. "Really good. At sex, I mean. Better than anyone I'd had before and better than anyone I'll ever have... no offense, dear."

You grin at her, slightly uncertain. "None taken," you say.

She looks up at you briefly and almost smiles, then looks down again.

"She surprised me every day," she says. "She... I never felt better than when I was with her. I bought her when I was here, and a few nights later, we sailed to the sea on my ship. She was the only consort I brought, it was the first time I only had one, because she - she satisfied me more than anyone else could and I thought I wouldn't need anyone else when I had her. It was - it was a mistake."

"How so?" you ask her.

She looks up at you, her eyes hard.

"I fell for her," she says. "I - my consorts all loved me because I made them, because I wanted them to. And I usually pretended to love them back, because that made them even more willing to please me. None of my consorts were ever supposed to know about each other, and if they learned that I was just - just playing a game with them - then I disposed of them. I never really had feelings for any of them. Except her."

You can tell that the memories are distressing her. You reach out and take her hand.

"I didn't realise," she whispers. "And when I did, I tried to deny it to myself. I - I bought another slave to be my consort and Mary found out." She half-smiles when you look confused. "Mary, that's the name I called her. I knew who she was because she told me, but I never knew her real name."

You nod.

"Her name was Porrim," you supply helpfully.

Mindfang huffs. "I know that now. I found out after she died. You interrupted the story."

"Sorry," you say.

She rolls her eyes.

"Anyway, I bought a new slave to be my consort, and Mary found out", she continues. Within seconds, her face is hard again; you get the feeling that she's close to tears. "She was so angry. She realised it was all just a game - or well, supposed to be a game. I played along, told her she meant nothing to me. I didn't realise... I should have gotten rid of her then, but I didn't. She was about to leave when Dualscar found her... and he shot her, out of jealousy."

She blinks, and a single tear falls down. She wipes it away angrily and sniffs.

"I didn't realise that I loved her until it was too late," she says, her voice thick. "She was - she was dying in my arms and she looked up to me and said I love you, and that's when I knew. I couldn't tell her. I begged her not to leave me... I wanted... I wanted to make things right..."

She's crying in earnest now, tears falling thick and fast, but she shakes her head when you move towards her, wanting to take her into your arms.

"I loved her," she sobs, "I loved her and I never told her - it was ages ago and it still hurts because it's the biggest mistake I ever made and - and - she was the first, I never knew I was capable of having those feelings for anyone and she - she died before I could make things right -"

This time she doesn't push you away when you reach out for her; she lets herself fall into your arms, and you kiss her head and stroke her hair as she sobs into your shoulder.

You're not sure what to do, what to say, because you're not good at handling crying people. You just hold her until her sobs die down and she curls up against you, her head in your lap. You're still stroking her hair.

"Let's go to sleep," she whispers eventually.

You've never slept in sopor before. She lies on top of you, her arms tight around you through the slime.

You want to tell her that you love her, but you're out from the sopor before you can even really adjust to being in the tank.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've upped the rating on this fic from Mature to Explicit and I know this will probably not apply to many people, but please make sure you're okay with the increased rating before you continue reading! I've increased it mostly because of violence, but there's also some rather... intense sexual scenes ahead.  
> 

 

 

"You must think I'm weak," she says.

It's evening, and you're taking a shower with her. She's leaning in to you, her cool skin pressed against yours.

"No," you say, running your fingers through her hair. "Why would I think that?"

She looks up at you.

"I fell in love with a woman a hundred sweeps ago," she says softly. "And I still cry when I think about her."

"That doesn't make you weak," you tell her. "Feelings are natural, and it sounds like that particular relationship is... well, full of regrets."

She leans her head against your shoulder and you wrap your arms around her. The warm water runs over you.

You could definitely get used to the luxury of living in a highblood's hive.

"I shouldn't have told you," she mutters into your skin.

You reach for her and tilt her chin up so she's looking up at you. You kiss her softly.

"I'm glad you did," you say. "Admitting you have feelings doesn't make you weak, Mindfang."

She hides her face in your shoulder again and says something. Her voice is muffled and you can't make out the words.

"Sorry?"

She draws back and looks at you. She's blushing - you've never seen her blush before.

"It's not my real name," she mumbles.

"What?"

"Spinneret Mindfang. It's not my real name. I made it up because my actual name doesn't sound impressive enough." She grimaces at you. "I thought - you know, as we're doing embarrassing confessions and all."

You almost laugh. "It's not embarrassing," you say. "I've heard of other highbloods do that."

She nods. "Dualscar did it as well, and Darkleer."

"Redglare too," you say. "Her name was Latula."

Her face lights up. "I didn't know that!"

You desperately want to ask her what her name is, but you know that's exactly what she wants, and while you don't usually hesitate to give her what she wants, it's fun to see her squirm sometimes.

"Who's Darkleer?" you ask instead.

She rolls her eyes and you know that she knows exactly what you're doing, but she indulges you.

"Executor Darkleer," she says. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of him, surely Meulin must have mentioned him - but maybe she doesn't know his name, not even the made up one. He's the Threshecutioner who was meant to kill Meulin after the Sufferer's death. He was discharged, obviously, after he spared her, and he's been living in a cave since... not unlike her, in fact! Actually, I've been meaning to tell you about him."

"You have?" You're surprised. You expected her to answer the question as quickly as possible, but she actually seems to want to talk about Darkleer.

But then, you know she likes to talk.

"Yeah," she says. "Because his cave is something of an... enigma, I would say. It's big and if you know it's there it's really obvious and hard to miss, but for someone who doesn't know about it it's impossible to find. You know how you get these places in pirate stories sometimes? This one is real, and I'm going to show you how to find it. Because I've got a feeling with this revolution of yours, sooner or later you're going to have to find a really good hiding place, and his cave is the best there is."

You're touched that she would offer something like that to you.

"Are you sure he'd be okay with letting me stay? And others too, probably?"

Mindfang laughs. "Sure he will. He's lonely, and he'll love any chance to babble about how saving Meulin's life ruined his. Hey, maybe you should take her. They're old friends, after all."

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea," you say. You remember Meulin's rant about how she didn't want to live anymore after the Sufferer died; granted, her survival ensured that his message is kept alive, but there's no way of knowing how Meulin would react if she met her saviour.

"Hmm," Mindfang says. "I'll show you where he lives, anyway. Who knows, it might one day save your life."

You wonder, briefly, if she does know. You don't ask her.

"Let's get out of the shower," she says. You're mildly disappointed; you like the shower. You get out with her anyway, and she hands you a towel.

You watch her as she drapes the towel around herself. She manages to look graceful in nothing but a towel, with waterdrops glistening on her skin; when you try to wrap the towel around yourself, you get caught on your horns, almost rip the towel, and eventually give up and just drape the towel over your horns.

Mindfang laughs when she sees you like that.

"It's like you've got your own tent with you," she says. "Or sun protection for when you're stupid enough to go outside by day."

"Believe me, I have no intention of doing that," you say, "at least not without my lusus."

She plucks the towel from your horns and winds it around your waist. "That's better," she says.

You draw her close and kiss her. Her hands are still on your waist, holding the towel, but as her mouth opens under your lips, her hands wander upwards and your towel drops to the ground. She presses herself closer to you and you can feel her bulge through the towel she's wearing.

She breathes a moan and lets her towel fall down as well. You run your hands over her skin, still slightly damp from the water. You cup her breasts and admire her hips and eventually curl a hand around her half-unsheathed bulge.

She moans again, louder this time, and it's enough to coax your bulge from its sheath. Mindfang draws back a little, enough to grin at you and push you against the wall. Her bulge touches yours and you moan before hitching a leg up around her waist and pulling her in, guiding her bulge inside of you.

You gasp as you feel her inside of you, her bulge is thick and cool against your hot nook and she starts moving it slowly, only small internal movements that make the walls of your nook vibrate as pleasure runs through you. You lean forward and kiss and suck the skin over her collarbone as she starts moving faster, her bulge caressing the insides of your nook.

She rolls her hips into yours, pushing deeper, and you whine into her skin. She laughs breathlessly and moves faster, pushing a little harder. You grab her hair, just holding her, and she kisses your skin close to your horns. Her tongue darts out, touches the base of your horns, and you hiss and rock back against her, feeling yourself get closer to the edge.

Mindfang goes with you, moving faster, and then she reaches down and gets a bucket from somewhere; you take it from her and she pulls away, her hand curling around your bulge and her other arm holding you as you pail. She follows seconds after.

You're still panting and holding her, fingers buried in her hair, and she kisses your temple and your cheek and your nose and your lips. Her lips are cool against your skin and you kiss her back softly, your tongue gently running along her lower lips as she breathes into your mouth.

You're still half delirious from your orgasm, so you follow her without question when she takes your hand and tugs you towards her block. She pushes you down on the sofa and curls up on top of you.

A warm, content smile is playing around her lips. You run your fingers through her hair and massage her scalp; she starts purring.

It takes a few moments for you to find your voice again.

"You keep buckets in your washblock?" you say, amused.

She buries her face in your chest and giggles. You touch the tips of her horns. She looks up at you.

"What's your name?" you ask her softly.

She looks at you for a long moment, almost smiling.

"Aranea," she then says.

You chuckle. "Wow, that sounds almost... tame."

"Exactly," she says. She leans up and kisses the corner of your mouth.

You kiss her.

"Aranea," you murmur against her lips.

She smiles.

"I like the way it sounds when you say it," she whispers.

 

 

_Rufioh._

It's still night, and somehow you've managed to fall asleep. Mindfang is lying on top of you, snoring softly. Her hair tickles your chest.

You slowly struggle towards consciousness, only marginally aware of what woke you.

 _Rufioh_ , she shouts again.

She notices you're awake, and you can feel her relief. _You're awake, good_ , she says impatiently. _Hope I'm not disturbing your little vacation. We have a problem._

 _Oh?_ You brush Mindfang's hair away from your chest and sit up, careful not to disturb her too much. You keep her head in your lap, fingers gently running through her hair.

 _Concentrate_ , Pyralspite snaps at you. _We have a problem. An actual, genuine problem._

 _Okay, I'm listening_ , you say. _What is it?_

 _Subjugglators_ , Pyralspite says. _Some animals spotted them moving towards the camp. The camp's gotten much bigger since you left, we were joined by another faction of Cavalreapers in the evening._

 _Okay_ , you say. _Do you know when the Subjugglators will be there?_

 _They'll be here in a few hours_ , Pyralspite says, _before dawn._

_Do any of the trolls know about this?_

_No_ , she growls, _that's why I need you here, as soon as possible!_

Mindfang stirs. You absently take your hand away from her head as she sits up.

 _Can't you reach out somehow?_ you ask your lusus. _You know Colvea is trustworthy, you could connect to her and tell her._

Pyralspite snarls at this mentally, and you can feel a small but strong fear in her mind.

 _I'm not doing that again,_ she says. _Ever._

"What is it?" Mindfang says. You ignore her.

 _Why not?_ you ask. _I trust Colvea, and I know she doesn't have much control over her abilities, and she would be willing to help. Also, she's the most competent person. She has to organise -_

 _I'm not doing this_ , Pyralspite snaps. _I'm not, you can order me all you want, it's not happening._

 _I wasn't going to order you_ , you say. _But okay. I'll be on my way as soon as possible._

"Rufioh," Mindfang says.

You blink and focus on her. "Sorry," you say. "It's Pyralspite - something came up, I need to go."

"Now? It's almost dawn!"

"It's not as late as you think," you assure her. "I need to go now, though. I'm sorry."

She looks at you and half-smiles. "Okay," she says. "Try not to get hurt."

You almost tell her that she could come with you, but you know she won't, so you don't.

Instead, you lean in and kiss her for a long moment before getting up and gathering your clothes. She walks with you down the stairs and to the massive doors.

You touch her cheek as she looks at you.

"I wish you could stay," she says softly.

"Me too. But I'll be back, okay?"

She kisses you.

"I love you," she says.

You smile. "I love you too. Goodbye." You kiss her again, then smile at her just before you step out the doors.

"Aranea," you say.

Her face seems to light up as she hears her name, and she raises her hand almost as if she was going to drag you back in. Halfway through the motion, she seems to change her mind; she just waves at you, sadness in her eyes.

 

 

You've never been more grateful for your wings; they will allow you to reach the camp long before the subjugglators arrive. You reach out with your mind to find them, observe them through the minds of animals. It's not easy. The animals are scared. Your heart sinks when you realise how many of them there are.

 _Pyralspite_ , you ask, _how many Cavalreapers do I have at the moment?_

 _About three thousand_ , she says.

_And you're sure you won't -_

_It's not happening_ , _Rufioh,_ she says, hard.

 _It would help a lot_ , you say. _They could make preparations for battle and pack up the camp. We'll have to move again._

Just then, a wave of fear passes through you, transmitted from dozens of small animal minds. You slip into their point of view again and see the same thing a hundred times: a massive white lusus rising up behind the subjugglators.

 _A griffin_ , you realise. _Pyralspite, they have a griffin_.

She forgets about her worries instantly. _A griffin?_ You can feel her excitement seep through you; it's not often that Pyralspite encounters an animal or lusus that can match her in size. _Can I fight him?_

 _Only if I can't control him_ , you tell her. _If worst comes to worst. A griffin could be a powerful ally._

You sense her disappointment. While you take it as a good sign that she has such confidence in you to win the griffin over to your cause, it also makes you nervous and a little sad.

 _Don't be so eager to fight, Pyralspite_ , you say. _I don't want you to get hurt._

 _I know_ , she says, _but it's been far too long since I've had a proper enemy to fight._

 _Maybe I'll get you to hold him down while I explain the rules to him,_ you say, _just so you're happy._

She chuckles.

You spend the rest of your journey planning in your head what you're going to do. From what you've seen though the minds of your animals, there are about two hundred subjugglators heading for you. You have more than ten times their number, but highbloods are stronger and often more skilled; plus, they will probably have psychics among them. They won't be good - highbloods are physically superior, but none of them have very highly advanced mental abilities. They rule by brute force and fear.

You'll have to arm your soldiers and prepare them for possible telepathic attacks. You'll have to get the griffin on your side, as well as any other animals or lusi they might have brought with them. You'll have to be prepared to lose some of your friends. You'll have to move your camp again.

When the camp comes into sight, you speed up and find Colvea supervising training.

"Colvea," you say, "we need to prepare for a fight. About two hundred subjugglators are headed this way."

She doesn't even question it, just nods. "How long until they're here?"

You reach out and determine how far they are from the camp and how fast they're walking.

"Probably about two or three hours," you say.

Colvea nods and calls off training. She tells the people who were training the news while you fly off to spread the word to the rest of the camp. You meet with the leader of the faction who joined you, and he spreads the word among the soldiers he brought with him.

It still takes almost an hour for everyone to hear the news, and with so many people, it's difficult to get organised. You make sure that the most experienced and fearless fighters will meet the subjugglators first, and that the escaped slaves and untrained trolls are protected.

Shortly before the subjugglators come into view, you summon every animal you can find in the radius of about five miles to you. You notice that this includes two of the smaller lusi the subjugglators brought with them, but not the griffin.

The griffin isn't going to be easy to control, but you've probably had bigger challenges. However, none of them were this important; after all, your life might depend on it, and at the very least the safety of your dragon lusus.

You've learned that lusi are more intelligent than just animals, and that they often share characteristics with the grubs they raise. You're expecting an indigo- or purpleblooded lusus to be aggressive, violent and stubborn.

And still you know that you can often accomplish a lot more with kind words and arguments than with brute force. You touch your mind to the griffin's gently - strong enough for him to notice, weak enough for him not to see it as a threat.

He turns his attention to you.

 _Why are you here?_ you ask him.

 _My grub said so_ , he says. His grub: one of the subjugglators in the group. Purple-blooded, the highest land dwelling caste there is.

_What did he tell you to do?_

_Fight the dragon,_ the griffin says.

You block Pyralspite out.

 _She's stronger than you_ , you inform the griffin. _She would win, and probably kill you. Pyralspite isn't usually gentle or merciful unless I ask her to. Do you want to die?_

The griffin considers this.

 _No_ , he says.

 _Then join us_ , you say. _I know it's not easy to abandon your grub, but he wants to lead you to your death._

You haven't actually had any formal lessons from Mindfang, but you've learned a little bit just by observing; you subtly shift around the griffin's thoughts a little bit, making him more susceptible, more willing to join you. He doesn't notice, but after a few seconds, he reluctantly agrees.

 _Excellent_ , you say. _Thank you. Can you help me out, please?_

 _I already said I'd join you, didn't I?_ he says, sounding slightly exasperated. _What do you want?_

 _Some information_ , you say. _How many psychics are in your group, and how strong are they?_

It's fairly unlikely that he knows such detailed information about the plans. But he surprises you.

 _My grub is a psychic_ , he says, _and the strongest in the group. There are three or four others, I don't know who they are, but they aren't very strong._

Okay, that's a complication. You withdraw from his mind and contact Pyralspite.

 _He's on our side_ , you tell her.

 _Really? That was quick._ You sense her pride.

 _Yeah, I told him if he didn't join us you'd kill him,_ you say.

She laughs. _Of course I would,_ she says smugly. _Can I still fight him?_

 _You might have to_ , you say. _His grub is the strongest psychic in the group. I can't ask his lusus to kill him, and he might protect him when you try to._

 _Excellent_ , she says. _Looking forward to it._

Meanwhile, the subjugglators are approaching. You focus on them; Pyralspite circles over the camp, her wings spread wide, casting shadows of faint moonlight everywhere she goes.

 _Join the dragon_ , you tell the griffin.

In response, he rises up and starts circling over the camp with Pyralspite, careful not to get too close to her.

As soon as the subjugglators are close enough, one of them steps forward.

 _Is this your grub?_ you ask the griffin.

 _No_ , he says.

"We're here to arrest the one who calls himself the Summoner," the leader of the subjugglators says. "If you attempt to fight or hide him from us, we'll kill all of you. If you give him up, we'll only kill most of you."

You step forwards. You are calmed down by the squeaking and rustling noises your animals make as they crowd around you protectively.

"I'm here," you say calmly.

"Oh, good," the subjugglator says, a malicious glint in his eyes. "We're going to kill your friends and take you to the Grand Highblood."

"No."

You don't even have to tell her. The dragon descends gracefully, lands in front of you and _roars_ at the subjugglators. You can still see past Pyralspite, even though she's blocking most of the view; most of the subjugglators are stumbling backwards.

Pyralspite can be very intimidating if she wants to be.

"Gryff," you hear a voice, "I told you to get the dragon!"

Gryff, you infer, is the name of the griffin. Leave it to a highblood to come up with the least imaginative name for his lusus.

 _Don't hurt her_ , you warn the griffin. _Don't hurt him_ , you tell Pyralspite.

Gryff comes down and closes his beak around Pyralspite's scaly neck. She turns around, snaps at him playfully, then flies a few feet above the ground and slams into him, knocking both of them to the ground. They struggle.

You maintain contact with both lusi; you can tell both of them are only playing, not intending to actually hurt each other. But to everyone else, it looks impressive and dangerous, and it looks like Pyralspite is winning.

The griffin screeches and digs his front talons into Pyralspite's chest before she releases him slightly. He pushes her up and takes one of her wings into his beak. He bites down and you can feel a jab of pain from Pyralspite; she roars again, slams him back down and presses one of her talons against his neck.

They stay like this, and you carefully step around them to face the subjugglators. A few of the bravest of the animals come with you.

"She will protect me," you tell the subjugglators. "She's stronger than the griffin. We have more numbers than you and my animals are stronger than yours. You won't take me captive."

You can feel something creeping into your mind. A highblood - you can instantly tell that this is Gryff's grub. You block out all your animals immediately; Pyralspite knows something is up, and she releases Gryff to descend on the subjugglators.

For only a few seconds, she kills indiscriminately, ripping and biting and tearing. The psychic, wherever he is, is distracted and releases your mind.

And then Gryff starts fighting Pyralspite, and this time it's for real, because he doesn't want his grub to be harmed. You worm yourself into Pyralspite's mind again and she knows, by the way Gryff fights, which one of the purplebloods is his; She heeds your warning, doesn't injure Gryff, and you expend a lot of your energy on keeping Gryff down with your mind when she slams him out of her way and smashes the psychic to pieces.

Gryff howls and frees himself from your control, but you trust Pyralspite to be able to subdue him. _Don't kill him_ , you tell her, _please try not to injure him too badly, either_.

The remaining subjugglators are attacking. You set your animals on them to hold them back, but most of them barely notice the animals. The Cavalreapers are armed and await them.

It's a long fight, longer than the first one you had, and it's dirty and bloody and horrible. Every subjugglator your soldiers kill takes at least three Cavalreapers with him. You dread to think what this fight will do to morale among your soldiers.

You don't take chances this time, though. You don't order the fighting to stop until every single subjugglator is killed.

The ground where your camp was is a mess of bodies and coloured in various shades of rust, brown and yellow, an occasional splash of green, and lots of purple and blue.

Pyralspite drags Gryff to you by his neck. He's bleeding, but not too hurt; his white coat is specked with his own purple blood as well as Pyralspite's teal.

 _Join us_ , you tell him. _You fought well_.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

The body count is higher than you expected it to be. You feel crushing guilt every time you think about the pile of dead trolls and animals you left behind after breaking up the camp; there was no time to burn them, wildlife will take care of them, and yet you wish you had done them the honour of a dignified funeral.

Just before everything was ready to move the camp, you made a speech again, because you felt you had to. You congratulated everyone on their bravery and apologised for putting them into danger. You told them that if they wanted to leave, nobody was going to keep them here; that is, after all, the purpose of this whole revolution. To give everyone freedom.

You know a few people have left, but more have stayed, and you've seen through a few animals' minds that there are more coming to join you: escaped slaves, other Cavalreapers.

You blame yourself for the dead because if you'd been there to warn everyone sooner, you think you would have had a good chance of moving well before the subjugglators got to you. It would have meant being hunted until they caught up; but maybe less lives would have been lost.

It's nearly dawn, so you don't make it very far. You order your people to set up temporary tents and to be prepared to march on as soon as the sun is down. You long to be with Mindfang, to hold her in your arms and to watch her face as you whisper her name. Every step you take takes you further away from her.

_Stop thinking about her so much_ , Pyralspite advises you. She's flying overhead; her injuries are minor, and she's taking care of Gryff in a rough but almost friendly manner.

_How can I not think about her_ , you ask her. _I'm in love with her._

_She's not the most important thing in your life, though,_ Pyralspite says. _She's your matesprit, but this is your legacy._

_So far, my legacy mostly seems to be dead trolls_ , you say bitterly. You still haven't killed anyone yourself, and yet you are responsible for hundreds of deaths.

_Don't let that distract you_ , she says. _Sometimes, terrible sacrifices are necessary for the good of the people._

You wonder to yourself which sacrifices are too big.

 

 

As you set up the new camp, you decide that it would be prudent to make sure the camp moves at least every other week. In addition to that, you find a few Cavalreapers who can communicate with animals. None of them are very good, but you hope it will be enough to set up a warning system in case someone attacks the camp again while you're not there.

Gryff stays with you, but you don't see much of him. Pyralspite has assumed custody over him, and even though you know they don't communicate telepathically - Gryff isn't able to do that with other animals by himself, and Pyralspite doesn't want to reach out to him - a rough sort of friendship develops between them. They fight playfully almost every day. Gryff challenges Pyralspite, and Pyralspite makes him better; when you talk to Gryff a few weeks later, you can detect something that's almost akin to a black crush for her in his mind.

Scared by the incident with the subjugglators, you don't leave the camp for more than a month. You miss Mindfang so much it hurts, and after about two weeks - just after you've moved the camp again - you decide to contact her even though you can't see her.

So you write her a short letter, apologising that you had to leave so quickly the last time you were at her hive, and explaining that you don't expect to be able to get away anytime soon. You write that you love her and you miss her. It's easy to convince a songbeast to fly to her hive and deliver the letter to her; you wonder if anyone has ever utilised animals to carry letters before.

You follow the songbeast with your mind, keeping up your connection with it even though it gets harder the further it flies away. You want to see her, even if it's just through a little bird's eyes, see her face light up when she realises the message is from you. More than anything, you want to be there yourself, to feel her skin and her lips on yours -

You're in training when the songbeast reaches Mindfang's hive; it takes the small animal a long time to catch Mindfang's attention and deliver the message to her. You are so distracted by this that Colvea notices, and asks you if you're feeling all right.

You excuse yourself for a little bit and reach out to the songbeast. It has finally managed to get to Mindfang, delivering the letter.

She looks bigger through the tiny bird's eyes, more imposing, more intimidating. Her fanged smile looks dangerous and for a moment, you are reminded of Meulin and Pyralspite's warnings. She silently takes up the letter, reads it, and smiles.

"You're watching me right now, aren't you, Rufioh?" she says, looking at the songbeast.

You have no way of answering her.

"I miss you too," she says quietly. "I love you. Visit soon, okay? I miss you."

You can tell that the songbeast is scared of her, but when you draw back and the bird prepares to take off, Mindfang catches it in her robotic hand. The bird struggles in vain, more scared than it was before.

"Don't leave yet," she says, her teeth flashing dangerously. "I have to answer this letter."

You have to go back to training, even though you wouldn't mind just sitting there in the mind of the songbeast, watching your matesprit write a letter to you. Part of your mind is still there, but mostly to calm down the animal, and you manage to concentrate on your training. When your training is finished, you sit in anticipation, waiting for the bird to come back with her letter to you.

_Rufioh,_

_how touching of you to write me! It was good to hear from you, as it pains me more than I can admit to 8e apart from you._

_I am glad to hear that you are well. Of course, your duties 8ind you to one place, so it is not very surprising that you won't 8e a8le to visit much. I think of you often, and hope your endeavours are going well._

_Try to visit, if you can. I miss you terri8ly._

_With all the love in the world,_

_A. xxxxxxxx_

The parchment is thick, heavy and obviously expensive, and it faintly carries her scent. You almost cry as you cradle it. You need her to be with you, and you need to see her again.

 

 

Thanks to your precautions, your camp isn't attacked again. Every day, you are joined by more Cavalreapers and escaped slaves; so many that you begin to worry about having to feed and provide shelter for them. Nobody has the luxury of having a tent to themselves anymore. You think about spreading out; it would surely make sense to bring the revolution to the people, rather than the people to the revolution. There's safety in numbers and you know and appreciate that, but if you keep going like this, you fear your revolution is headed nowhere.

You need to take your revolution to the cities. You need to get everyone talking about it. You need to inspire millions to your cause. The scale is too small at the moment; there are still far too many people who haven't heard of you.

And even though you've been steadily getting further away from it, the closest city is still the one near Mindfang's hive.

You share your ideas with Colvea that night.

"You know that the highbloods will simply shoot down any peaceful demonstration or protest march," she says. "Literally."

You sigh. "Yes," you say, "but right now, we don't reach enough people. It's mostly Cavalreapers who know about us now. We need to change that."

"Okay," Colvea says. "You seem to be hell bent on making this as big and dangerous as possible. I said I would support you, and I will, but I don't think this is a good idea."

"What would you suggest, then?" you ask her.

She doesn't say anything for a few moments, but frowns, thinking.

"I suppose the safest thing to do would be to continue as we have done," she says. "Recruit Cavalreapers and escaped slaves, move camp every few weeks. But you're right, it's not going to get us the kind of support we need to overthrow the Condesce. What we could do... is select a few people to run errands in the city, to buy food and supplies, to recruit a few healers for the Cavalreapers, maybe. And at the same time, spread the word quietly among the lowbloods. Tell them who we are, what we fight for and how to find us. There's little need for another massacre, Rufioh."

You nod. You know she's right.

But you want to go to the city. You want, you need to see your matesprit.

That, and you really do need to draw attention to yourself. The good kind, preferably, not the kind that will get you killed.

"I have a friend in the city," you say. "I'd like to visit her."

Colvea looks at you with a knowing glance in her eyes. "The blueblood who visited you just before all of this started?" she asks.

You nod.

"You shouldn't go into the city," Colvea cautions you. "Too many highbloods know about you, and your wings make you very recognisable."

"I can hide them," you say. "Besides, my friend's hive isn't in the city, not really. It's just by the sea."

"You still need to be careful."

"I know."

"So, your friend," Colvea says. "She's pretty special, huh? Is she - your matesprit?"

You know you're blushing, and you look down. Colvea laughs.

"Oh, that's adorable! Rufioh's got a matesprit! Since when?"

"Maybe two months," you say.

"And that doesn't have anything to do with your sudden ideas of going to the city?" Colvea asks, still laughing.

"No!" you protest. "I mean, yeah, I guess, but we need to go bigger anyway, and that city is as good a place to start as any."

"So," she says, "why don't you send a few people in, like we discussed, and let them handle it? You escort them to the city and hide your wings, and then you go visit your matesprit until your friends come back."

"You want me to hide in my matesprit's hive while my colleages are putting their lives at risk for me?" You are appalled. You know Colvea is protective of you, and you know that without you, the revolution would probably die - and yet, not being in the first line of fire seems incredibly wrong to you.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do," she says sharply. "Think about it. The famous Summoner in a city full of highbloods? Possibly even with the dragon? You know they're all just longing for a chance to kill her, so you need to keep her away. And without her, you are too obvious a target, and you don't have any protection. You don't want to take the griffin either, or any animal, really, because they'll just draw too much attention. Let your colleagues handle it. I'll go into the city and take a few trusty Cavalreapers with me. You trust me, don't you?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"It's your call," she says. "But you should consider it, at least."

You know she's right. It's the reason why she's your second in command; her intuition is usually very good, and she keeps you grounded in situations like these. Her plan is more realistic, less dangerous and more likely to bear fruit.

You don't like it very much anyway - you want to do something, you want to preach to the people, you want to show yourself. But she's right.

"We'll do it your way," you say. Colvea smiles.

"Thank you," she says.

"No, I should thank you," you say, "I don't even know if I'd still be alive without you."

 

 

You know Colvea has everything under control, and you know she's the best for the job, but you can't help but worry. You set off a little later and make your way to Mindfang's hive, hiding your wings underneath a jacket.

However, when you get there, she's gone. The door is locked and you have no idea where she is.

Disappointed, you make your way around the hive - maybe she's gone to the beach. You get a little squeakbeast to sit near her door so you'll know if she returns that way.

The beach is deserted; there's no sign of Mindfang, or indeed anyone else. You shrug off your jacket, unfold your wings and take off. In a few seconds, you've flown to the top of her mansion. You sit down on the roof, confident that nobody will see you, and look towards the city.

In a way, it's peaceful. You wonder where Pyralspite is, but don't reach out to her. It feels nice to have your head to yourself for a while.

But you start worrying about Colvea again, and your other comrades, and even though you are powerless to do anything about it, you itch to fly across to the city and do _something_.

You stay put. You consider going back to the camp, but you didn't come all this way for nothing; you want to see Mindfang. Surely she must be back soon. She doesn't have her ships anymore. She probably has other irons in the fire, but she never mentioned any prolongued business that she might have.

You wait and you wait and you wait, and the two hours it takes for Mindfang to get back are probably the longest you've ever had.

As soon as she comes towards the hive from the city, you gracefully descend from the roof to land behind her almost soundlessly.

"You kept me waiting," you say softly.

She whips around, falls into a defensive stance, and relaxes when she recognises you.

"Rufioh!" she exclaims. "What are you doing here?"

You step closer. You expected a... warmer welcome.

"Visiting you, of course," you say. "What else would I be doing?"

She smiles, then leans closer and kisses you. It's a chaste kiss, and over as soon as it started. She takes your hand.

"Let's go inside, then," she says, unlocks the door and leads you inside.

As soon as the doors close behind you, she embraces you with a force that almost makes you topple over. You laugh, wind your arms around her and breathe in the faint scent of her hair.

"I missed you," you say softly. "Oh, I missed you so much."

She pulls back and kisses you, longer this time, but still more hesitant than you're used to.

"Missed you too," she says. "How long can you stay?"

You smile. "A few days at least. I've got people in the city, we're trying to get more people on our side. Just the army wasn't big enough for me anymore."

She chuckles. "So you're going to be here? Why not out there, in the city?"

"It wouldn't be safe," you say. "I'm too well known, I'd be putting my life at risk."

She nods.

"All the better for me, then," she says and pulls you in for another kiss.

"What were you doing in the city, then?" you ask when you break apart.

She shrugs. "Stuff. It's not important. You know, just because I'm not a pirate anymore doesn't mean I don't have irons in the fire anymore. And let me tell you, there are a lot of fires! And a lot of irons. But you don't need to know about any of them, it would likely bore you to death. How are you?"

"I'm good," you say. "Much better, now that you're here. I missed you."

"Sorry to keep you waiting. I had no idea you were coming. You could've sent a bird again?"

You smile. "You scared the last one."

"It was a tiny thing too," Mindfang says. "It was flimsy, I could have crushed it with my bare hands. Why not use a cool animal? Like a soarbeast, the ones I see near the cliffs at sea sometimes. They're huge and majestic and strong, they wouldn't be scared by little old me."

"Soarbeasts make me nervous," you say. "They don't respond well to me."

She shrugs. "Your choice. Anyway, come on. A few days, you said? Let's make the most of it."

 

 

The next night, she has to go into the city again.

You try and hide your disappointment, but you're almost sure she notices. She kisses you before you leave and tells you she'll be back in a few hours, she doesn't exactly know when.

So you try and think of ways to put your time to better use. You could visit Meulin, but you don't think you have enough time for that; you want to be here when Mindfang comes back. Your thoughts wander to Colvea and her mission in the city, and you know she doesn't want you to worry about her or to interfere, but you can't help worrying, and after being alone for a while, you can't help but interfering, either.

It's not you who goes to look for Colvea and your colleagues; you hijack the mind of a squeakbeast (there must be thousands in the city). You find Colvea in a pub right in the centre of town, talking to two edgy-looking lowblood men.

The squeakbeast crawls up; the way onto the table is difficult, but not unmanageable. Soon you sit at the edge of the table, yet unnoticed by Colvea or the trolls she found. You concentrate, listening in on their conversation through the tiny animal's ears.

The words fade in and out, and you have trouble understanding all of them while being a squeakbeast, but you gather that the two men are members of the underground network in the city. They're thieves, they deal with forbidden items, they kill those who they don't like. Apparently, they've heard widely exaggerated rumours of you, and Colvea doesn't exactly do anything to discourage them from believing that you can turn into a dragon and that you burned all subjugglators that came to your camp with a single breath.

You chuckle to yourself when hearing this, and make a mental note to tell Pyralspite about these tales later.

In the mean time, Colvea has succeeded in bringing the thugs over to her cause (not that it was particularly difficult, from what you're hearing). Their network is huge, or at least that's what they want you to believe; they will try and spread the word throughout the city. It sounds good. You don't particularly like the idea of murderers on your side, but you know you have to have them, and they will be crucial in making your revolution as big as it needs to be.

When Colvea is alone, you make yourself known by scurrying over to her arm, tiny feet tapping against the wooden table, and nibbling at the skin on her arm a little bit.

She shoos you away at first, but when you persist, she looks closer.

"Oh, come on," she whispers. "I told you to stay away."

You squeak a little and nudge her hand with your nose.

She smiles thinly. "I'm almost glad you're here now. We need to talk. Can you lead me to Rufioh?"

You make the squeakbeast nod. Colvea holds out her hand, and you crawl inside and curl up against her warm skin.

"Keep hidden," she says. "Talking to a squeakbeast isn't really something normal trolls do."

As she walks outside, you reach out to find other animals in order to determine where she is and how to get to you. As soon as she's certain nobody is looking, she releases the little squeakbeast from her hand and sets it on the ground.

"Lead the way, then," she says.

You're careful not to let her lose sight of you, because the streets are dark and you are only a tiny anymal. As you lead her towards you, you can't help but think of what she said: We need to talk.

It sounds like she ran into trouble. Like the mission isn't going as smoothly as she'd planned.

You refuse to let yourself worry about it too much. It takes about twenty minutes for Colvea to get to Mindfang's hive; you meet her at the abandoned beach behind it.

She's unhurt, which was your main concern. She looks you up and down as if to determine that you're fine as well, then sits you down and pulls you close so she can whisper to you.

"Is that really necessary?" you ask.

She nods, casts a glance towards the mansion, and starts talking.

"We've got a problem," she says quietly. "I spoke to lots of people yesterday about our mission, and most of them were very sympathetic to the cause. I wanted to meet them again tonight, but lots of them didn't turn up - I found one of them by coincidence later, and he'd completely forgotten about me, or anything I told him, or that he was supposed to be meeting me."

You stare at her in horror.

"Yes, exactly," she says. "And as if that wasn't bad enough as it is - it gets worse. So I had my suspicions, right? And after I talked to more people tonight, I tracked them. It turns out they were intercepted by someone. A blueblood."

"Did you see them?"

"Her," Colvea says. "I couldn't see her very clearly, but I saw some things. She's about as tall as me, with long hair."

"That could be anyone," you say. "Did she harm your associates?"

"No," she says. "She just talked to them, made them tell her about your plans, and then apparently erased their memories. It's dangerous, she knows about everything, she could rat us out in an instant. I even told some of the others how to find our camp - we could be dead in a fortnight."

You frown.

"I'm so sorry, Rufioh," Colvea says softly. "I shouldn't have given out that information, but they were asking and they seemed trustworthy."

"It's okay," you tell her. "I probably would have told them too. Do you remember anything else about that blueblood?"

"Well, I saw her sign," Colvea says. "I'm not sure if it'll help, or if it'll even mean anything to us. I don't even know if I'll remember properly."

She picks up a stick, draws something into the sand, erases it again. "No, that wasn't it."

"Whoever she is," you say, "she has to be eliminated. She's posing a considerable threat to our plans."

Colvea nods.

"Could it be the woman I set free a while ago?" you wonder aloud.

"No, I don't think so," Colvea says. "I'd recognise her, I think, and also, this one's blood is a bit darker."

After a few moments, she adds, "I don't know where the others are. I'm meant to meet them in a few hours. I hope our highblood friend hasn't gotten to them."

She says the word 'friend' sarcastically, in a way that could be heard as 'enemy' as well. You know exactly what she means. You don't say anything.

For a while, she's silent too. Then, suddenly, her face lights up. "Oh! I remember her sign. Here."

She draws it into the sand.

You've had a quiet, nagging suspicion the moment Colvea started talking about a female blueblood. You've pushed them aside. It could be anyone.

Even now, as she draws the sign, you still hold on to that hope.

But when Colvea is done, the truth is written in the sand clearly for everyone to see, even you.

The sign of Marquise Spinneret Mindfang.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

Colvea notices immediately that something is very, very wrong.

"It's her, isn't it?" she whispers. "Your matesprit."

Everything in your heart screams no, but you remember what Pyralspite said, what Meulin said. You remember Mindfang's own words, that you shouldn't really trust her.

"It can't be," you whisper. "No."

"She was wearing a dress," Colvea says softly. "Blue, with a spiderweb pattern."

The same dress she was wearing when she left in the evening.

You bury your face in your hands.

"A robotic arm?" you ask quietly from between your fingers.

Colvea hesitates.

"It was difficult to see," she says gently, "but one of her arms moved funny, and it could well have been made of metal."

"She was here," you say. "She was here, with me."

"Was she here all the time?"

You can feel the tears pressing in your eyes. "No," you whisper.

Colvea crunches up her face sympathetically. She doesn't touch you; you're her superior, but you know that she sees you more as a friend right now, and she still doesn't know how far she's allowed to go.

"Rufioh," she says. "You know as well as I do that she's a threat. We have to stop her." She takes a deep breath. " _You_ have to stop her," she adds.

"No," you say again. "No, it's not that simple. I can't - I - she can't - she must have a good reason - she -"

You start crying, wetly, pathetically, like a wriggler. You can sense Pyralspite in your mind, reacting to your distress instinctively. You suddenly just want to curl up against her, let your lusus protect you against anything.

You know she can't possibly protect you from this.

"There, now, Rufioh," Colvea says, and you can hear helplessness in her voice. "No reason to despair. Here." Her hand is on your shoulder now.

At the same time, you've involuntarily reached out to hundreds of tiny animals, which come swarming up to you, crowding around you. You feel the calming presence of a hundred minds, and the pressure of Colvea's hand against your shoulder, and you barely register what you're doing as you lean in to her.

She carefully wraps her arm around your shoulder. "There, now," she says again, sounding a bit more sure of herself now. "I'm sure we can think this through. Look at me, Rufioh."

You reluctantly raise your head to look at her.

"I get that this is a difficult situation for you, but you need to pull yourself together," she says sternly. "We can fix this. We can solve it, you can solve it, and then everything will be okay."

"She said she was in favour of this revolution, Colvea," you say hoarsely. "I don't... why would she...?"

"If you want to talk to her and try to find out, you can," Colvea says. "But don't waste too much time, and for god's sake be careful around her. For all we know she changed her mind and doesn't want to lose her privileges after all. She might want you dead."

You think back. You slept with her during the day. She curled up with you and purred into your naked skin as you held her. You can't imagine... you can't, and yet you can't deny the facts.

"I'll talk to her," you say, wiping the tears from your face. "I... I don't know what I'll say, but I'll talk to her."

Colvea hugs you.

"Be careful," she says.

 

You worry as Colvea goes back into the city. Despite everything, you're fairly certain that Mindfang doesn't want to harm you - but you doubt she'll extend the same courtesy to others. If she suspects that Colvea has seen her... you fear for the safety of your moirail.

(Is Colvea your moirail now? It seemed like a bad time to ask, but showing weakness in front of a troll who isn't in any of your red quadrants is a terrible idea, and you trust Colvea. You know she would give her life for you, but she's not hesitant to tell you if she thinks your plans are flawed. She consoled you and got you to focus. If that's not moirallegiance, then what is it?)

You know Pyralspite is on her way to you even though you told her to stay away. You wish you could send your lusus into the city to protect Colvea. You wish you could go into the city to protect her.

You've explained the situation to Pyralspite, as calmly as you could. You're still freaking out, close to tears every time you think about it. Earlier, you wanted Mindfang to come back; now, you want her to stay away as long as possible, because you know you won't be ready for her, whenever she comes.

Pyralspite's advice is less than useless. You can still sense her smugness.

_If it was anyone but her, you'd have her killed without hesitation_ , she told you calmly when you'd explained everything to her. _I can do it, in fact I'd welcome the opportunity. All I need is your permission._

Your telepathic scream at her was so loud and desperate that she shut you out, but only for a minute.

_You know you have to neutralise her_ , she then said.

You know, of course you know. And you know she's right. You said it yourself, to Colvea, before you knew it was Mindfang who was sabotaging your plans: She's a threat, she has to be eliminated.

But you also know that you can't kill her. You can't order one of your animals to kill her, you won't order one of your soldiers to kill her, and the last thing you want to do is take up a weapon and run it through her heart yourself.

You love Mindfang.

When Pyralspite arrives at the beach, she tells you she's almost certain nobody has seen her. You allow yourself to curl up and cry as she folds your wings over you and touches her nostrils to your head.

_What am I going to do_ , you think.

_Whatever you think is right_ , Pyralspite says. _Failing that, whatever you need to do._

 

 

She comes back eventually. She finds you on the beach. The sun is already throwing its first long rays over the water. It hurts your eyes.

Pyralspite is asleep, her belly to your back.

"There you are," Mindfang says cheerfully. You don't look at her.

"I thought Pyralspite was staying away this time?" she asks, reaching out to pat the dragon's scales. You catch her wrist mid-movement.

"Don't touch her."

You're still not looking at her.

"Rufioh," Mindfang says. Worry is creeping into her voice.

"You'll wake her," you say softly. "You don't want that."

"What's going on?"

Through an enormous effort of will, you turn your head and look at her.

Your matesprit, the woman you love.

The woman you thought loved you.

"She's angry with you," you say sadly.

Mindfang looks at you for a long time, then frees her wrist from your hand and sits down.

"Now what could I possibly have done to anger your lusus, Rufioh?" she asks sweetly.

You snarl. Mindfang winces - which isn't something you've ever seen her do, much less in reaction to you.

"You know damn well what," you say coldly. "Stop playing your games. Why did you do it?"

"I do a lot of things, Rufioh," she says. "You're gonna have to tell me which one you're referring to."

She's taunting you, and you know it. Black romance isn't something you've ever done, but she's pushing for it, you can feel it. You grit your teeth and try hard to keep your voice calm.

"You went into the city, found my allies and made them forget everything about my revolution," you say. "You've been seen. You're making yourself my enemy, and I want to know why."

"Hmmm," she says. She doesn't even try to deny it, you notice. "Consider it lesson number three... or four? I forgot which one we're on."

"Damn it, Mindfang," you snap. "This isn't a game anymore, and I don't want your lessons. You can do stuff like this with your kismesis. I'm your matesprit. You do things differently in red romance, or are you so damaged you don't even know about the most basic things?"

"How do you know about this, anyway?" she challenges you without acknowledging your questions. "Who saw me? One of your animals? Oh -" She visibly remembers something, and a grin spreads over her face. "The rustblood. She's not very good at hiding. How do you know she's telling the truth? Maybe I found her too, and just implanted fake memories in her mind?"

"Stop," you say sharply. "God, please, just stop." You don't know if Mindfang is capable of that, but if she is - who's to say that she hasn't been messing with your mind as well, changing your memories so you wouldn't remember?

Your confusion and anger is starting to seep into Pyralspite's dreams. The dragon is waking up.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't let Pyalspite fry you to a crisp right now," you tell Mindfang in a low growl.

She grins. Arrogantly; confidently.

"Because you love me," she says.

And before you can do anything to hold her back, she's bounced up and striding to the door of her hive. She's walking as fast as she can without running, and you catch up with her quickly when you spread your wings and land in front of her.

She stops, looks at you for a long moment as if daring you to stop her. And then, she simply steps around you and keeps walking.

You let her, but you fall into step beside her. She holds the door open for you. You find that you don't feel trapped as the door closes behind you. But you still don't know what you're doing.

"Aranea," you say softly.

She turns around sharply. You step closer, hesitate, then reach out to take one of her hands into yours.

"I don't want to fight with you," you say. "But I don't know what you're trying to do, or why you're doing it, and it's scaring me. It's freaking me out. Aranea, please... please tell me what you're doing."

Her expression softens. She leans in and kisses you; you respond to the kiss after a moment. She draws you in, deepens the kiss, and for just a few seconds, it's as if nothing had happened.

But then she bites down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. You yelp and jump backwards, tasting your own blood.

"What the hell!" you complain.

Mindfang is grinning again. You slowly start to put the pieces together. You'd gotten there already, earlier, but you didn't realise it.

She's antagonising your revolution, the only thing that really matters to you. She probably set everything up so Colvea would see her, so you would learn about what she was doing. Her taunting, her biting, the looks she keeps giving you.

"Are you trying to flip us to black?" you ask.

Her grin widens.

"No," you say before she can answer. "No, don't do that."

She pouts prettily, her eyebrows arching over her eyes in a way that can only be described as mocking.

"Why not?" she says. "It seems to work great so far."

"Because I don't want it," you snarl. "Why do you even feel like you need to - is the red making you uncomfortable, is that it? Or is it boring you?"

She grimaces. She seems serious now.

"I wanted - I felt like I - I wanted to get your attention," she says.

You let out an exasperated breath. "Well, you've certainly succeeded," you say coldly. "It's not like you needed to, though - I'm already giving you more attention than any other troll. You're my matesprit, remember?"

"Am I?" she snaps. "It's a good thing you told me, 'cause otherwise I really wouldn't know! I haven't seen you in months and then you just drop by and expect everything to be the same - you left when I needed you most and you didn't even have the decency to tell me that you were okay until weeks later, for all I know you could have been injured or taken captive or maybe you found someone else and forgot all about me -"

You take her hand again. "Hey," you say. "I love you, okay? I'm busy, I have a revolution to run, and I - I'm sorry I didn't - I thought about you every day."

She scowls. "I've never done this before," she says. "Nobody has ever loved me, Rufioh, not of their own accord. Nobody. Even my lusus hated me. Is it so hard to believe that I can't just accept that you love me? And you thinking about me doesn't really help, because I don't know about that, do I? I don't know how to let myself be loved, and you're not helping."

You're so startled you almost laugh. You don't though, because you know that would only make everything worse.

"You're insecure," you say, surprised.

"No!" she retorts at once. "I just - I need you, and you're not giving me what I need, so I have to take it."

You draw her closer.

"You only have to ask," you say. "I'll give you what you need. I'm here, and I made mistakes, but I love you and I want to show you that I do."

She kisses you. Her lips are a little desperate, but she doesn't bite you again. When she lets go, you keep her close, leaning your forehead to hers.

"But you have to stop what you're doing in the city," you say softly. "You've been seen. Colvea already told me to stop you. You know what that means. If it was anyone else -"

"If it was anyone else, they'd be dead already," she finishes the sentence for you.

You swallow. "I'm only giving you the benefit of doubt because you're my matesprit."

She draws back and looks at you.

"If I don't stop, will you kill me?", she asks.

The calm way in which she says it sends cold shivers down your spine.

"I don't know," you say. "I - you'll stop, though, won't you?"

She hesitates.

"I'm not sure if I can," she says. "I'm - I'm in too deep, I don't think I can stop now."

"Why?" you demand.

She looks away. "I made friends," she says, "Highblood friends. They caught wind of me, they know who I am, and it would be more than suspicious if I stopped supporting them now, or even switched sides -"

"Is that why you never wanted to be seen with me?" you ask. "Because you were secretly supporting my enemies - since when has this even been going on? Why did you even start, I thought you wanted this revolution to happen?"

"I did - I do!" she says, high-pitched, her face twisted as if she's in pain. "I had my reasons - part of which were to get you to come back to me but - it was a mistake -"

"Yes," you say, careful to control your voice. "And you know that. If you come over to my side now, they'll kill you... but if you don't stop antagonising me..."

You don't even want to finish that thought.

"Yes, I know," Mindfang says, oddly calm again. "I never expected to come out of this alive."

It takes a few seconds for the enormity of what she's said to hit you.

And you realise.

"You know," you say softly. "Of course you know."

She just looks at you, follows your thoughts with her eyes.

"Someone like you, with an oracle... of course you would ask after your own death."

She nods. She seems a little shaky. You reach for her again. All your anger has been washed away.

"How long?"

"About a month," she whispers.

"No!" A month is too short, far too short. You don't know what you'll do, and you still don't know how to handle the threat she suddenly poses to you, but you know that you don't want to lose her.

At least not this soon.

"It's set in stone," she says simply. "The oracle has never been wrong. About anything."

You take a few breaths and swallow heavily. You pull her closer; she nestles against you and sighs.

"Are you going to tell me what will happen?" you ask after a few minutes.

She tenses, then shakes her head.

"Are you going to tell me who -?"

She shakes her head again.

"It could be important," you say. "I could - I don't know, do something, protect you -"

"The oracle has never been wrong," she repeats softly. "If you try to interfere, you'll end up causing everything to happen. Just - just keep doing what you're doing, it'll all - it'll all work out."

"No," you say again. She looks at you and puts a finger on your lips to shush you.

She kisses you, more gently and sweetly than she ever has. You respond, pulling her close to you.

Now that you know her days with you are numbered, you don't ever want to let her go again.

At the same time, you wreck your brain trying to find a solution. A month, only a month. All the reasons you had for staying away for so long seem silly now. If you'd visited earlier, maybe you could have prevented this.

"Don't go into the city tomorrow," you plead quietly. "Stay here, with me."

She sighs again. "I can't," she says.

You feel tears again, for an entirely different reason now. "You're Marquise Spinneret Mindfang," you say with a brave attempt at a smile. "You can do whatever you want."

"Don't cry," she whispers, her fingers ghosting over your lips and your cheeks. "It's okay, Rufioh. It's okay. It's all meant to be."

Tears spill out over your face. She watches.

"I don't want to lose you," you say, letting go of the last of your composure, and she holds you as you collapse into sobs.

After a while, you manage to get yourself together. She doesn't say much, she just holds you, and when it's time to go to bed, you don't make love, you just slip into her sopor cocoon. You hold her as she falls asleep, but even the sopor can't calm down the feelings and thoughts racing through your head; you lie awake, the sunlight coming through the window hurting your eyes.

You want to leave and yet you don't want to stay away from Mindfang. You watch her has she sleeps, run your hands through her hair, and despair over and over again.

Pyralspite, who's trying to sleep (a little bit more successful than you), gets tired of it pretty quickly.

_Stop thinking about it so much_ , she says. _There's nothing you can do._

You don't have the energy to fight her, even though the slight smugness bleeding through her words annoys you. You're tired and wound up and you can't sleep, and your matesprit is going to be taken from you in only a month.

Eventually, the sopor claims you, but your sleep is light and restless.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a picture of Colvea using [this](http://xsaria.deviantart.com/art/Homestuck-Fan-Troll-Creator-200274414) awesome fantroll creator (as well as a little bit of photoshop). [This](https://31.media.tumblr.com/a1396773343d980b7ec1508dccc79248/tumblr_n99tu6jGOv1r43o6jo1_250.png) is her. Say hi to the readership, Colvea.
> 
> I hope you're still enjoying this story. As you can probably imagine, it's going to get a lot darker from here on. Keep reading. Brace yourselves. Feels are coming.


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

"Don't go," you plead with her, again, in the evening.

She sighs. "We've been over this."

_Maybe you should just kill her now_ , Pyralspite says. _Get it over with._

_Will you shut up_ , you say angrily.

"Please," you beg of Mindfang. "You don't have to - I want to spend time with you, and everything you do in the city only makes everything worse, please stay."

She kisses you.

"I'm sorry," she says softly.

She leaves before you get the chance to hold her back.

As soon as she's gone, you want to cry again. You don't like the prospect of being alone all night again, and you can't justify dragging Colvea away from her duties - even though you should probably tell her what's going on.

Colvea, you know, will tell you that Mindfang is dangerous, and that you made a grave mistake in letting her live. As far as you know, Colvea has never had a matesprit; she won't understand. You decide to leave her be. She'll find you, and you think that for now, she's safe - Mindfang won't kill her.

Eventually, you decide that you need to leave, do something. If you stay in this hive alone all night, you'll drive yourself crazy. You don't want to back to the Cavalreapers yet - even though you don't doubt you would be welcome and would find a lot to do there, it would prompt questions about how your mission in the city is going, and you don't think you're ready to face that yet.

So about an hour after Mindfang has left, you take Pyralspite and fly to Meulin's cave.

You haven't seen Meulin in weeks; you dropped by, very briefly, to give her back the leggings. You couldn't stay long though.

And Meulin will agree with everyone that Mindfang is dangerous and that it would be best to eliminate her. Deep down, you know that as well as they do; you just don't want to accept it. But unlike Pyralspite or Colvea, Meulin knows what it means to love someone.

Pyralspite separates herself from you after a while. You don't really want to talk to her. You're hurt and grieving - even though Mindfang is alive, it already feels like you lost her. Pyralspite doesn't understand, but your thoughts weigh her down as well. You suspect she's off to find Gryff, to protect the Cavalreaper camp from possible attacks.

Meulin is in her cave; you start crying before you even enter.

She doesn't have to ask what's wrong. She hugs you and lets you sob into her shoulder.

When you've calmed down a little bit, she sits you down and you start to tell her what's happened. Your voice falters, halts, and you are interrupted by tears a lot.

And unlike Pyralspite, Meulin doesn't seem the tiniest bit smug.

"You were right," you tell her anyway.

"Yes," she says, "and I've hoped and prayed every day that I wasn't. I'm... I'm so sorry, Rufioh."

You cover your face with your hands.

"I don't know what to do," you say softly.

Meulin rubs your back.

"Rufioh," she says carefully, "I don't know what you think you can do. But - and I'm sorry... but it sounds to me like it's pretty clear what you're going to do." She takes a breath. "What you're supposed to do."

You drop your hands and look at her.

"And what's that?" you ask hoarsely.

Meulin bites her lip.

"Kill her," she says.

You half expected it.

"No," you say simply.

"I know you don't want to," Meulin says. "You probably don't even think you could. But she has that oracle. She's vain enough to have asked about every single detail about her death. She knows what's going to happen. She didn't just try to flip you to black because she wanted attention. She's trying to make it easier for you, because she knows you'll kill her."

"No," you say again. "I won't, I couldn't. I don't care what the oracle said, I don't - I'm not going to kill her."

Meulin just looks at you, pity in her eyes.

"She's my matesprit, Meu," you say softly. "You of all people... you know what that means. You wouldn't have killed Kankri, no matter what he did. I'm not going to kill Mindfang."

"Kankri never turned against me and endangered my whole existence," she says softly. "Kankri never tried to manipulate me in any way. But - but you're right, of course you're right. I wouldn't have killed him, not for anything. It could have been his life against the whole world and I wouldn't have been able to."

"Then you know how I feel," you whisper.

She looks at you for a long moment.

"No," she then says quietly. "I can sympathise, a little, but really - as complicated as my relationship was at times, it never even came close to these levels of fucked up."

"Thanks," you say drily.

"You don't deserve it," she says. "You deserve something healthy and supportive. You should have gotten out of that thing with her while you still could."

"Everything the oracle says comes true," you say. "If that's the case, I never even had a choice. I still don't. Everything I do, everything I have ever done - it's inevitable."

Meulin half-smiles.

"And people say we're in control of our own fate," she says.

"How can anyone believe that when things like this oracle exist?"

She sighs and shrugs.

"I should have trusted you," you say. "I should have believed you when you said there was something wrong. I should have listened when you told me she was dangerous."

"You weren't willing to see that at the time," she says. "And I don't blame you. You have so much on your plate... you deserve to be happy, and it's not fair that she's taking that from you."

"She's not, she's... she doesn't have any more of a choice than I do," you say.

She gives you another pitying look. "If thinking that will make this easier for you, then I won't disagree with you," she says.

You sigh and fall silent. Meulin bustles around the cave.

"I need to go hunting," she says. "I'll find some food for you too, if you want. Will you be staying that long?"

"I don't know," you say. "I want to - go back - but I don't know if I can deal with all of this... I think I'll stay, at least until dawn."

She hugs you again, then leaves the cave.

You know she won't be back for a while. You are left alone with your thoughts again.

_Pyralspite_ , you reach out.

She responds immediately. Like you suspected, she's back at the camp with Gryff.

_Are you talking to me again?_ she asks, slightly amused.

You don't respond to that; instead, you say, _Meulin thinks I'm supposed to kill Mindfang. You know, with the oracle and everything._

_The same thought had crossed my mind,_ Pyralspite admits. _I didn't want to put it so bluntly though. You were already angry with me._

_I'm not angry_ , you say. _I wasn't angry. I just - you were right about her, and I think deep down I knew from the start. I love her and I want to be happy with her, but she's - she's making it impossible, and now I'm going to lose her._

_You're going to kill her_ , Pyralspite corrects you.

_What if I don't?_ you challenge her. _What if I just never talk to her again, and move to the southern continent, and give up my whole life?_

_You wouldn't_ , Pyralspite simply says.

You know she's right. Everything here is too important to you. Your revolution is about to get bigger. And you remember what Mindfang told you yesterday. She loves you, she needs you, and you aren't about to deny her that, now that she only has a month to live.

_Do you want me to come over?_ Pyralspite asks. _Are you about to start crying again?_

You ignore the slightly mocking tone. _I think I'm done crying_ , you say. _I just have to deal with everything._

You realise you need to talk to Mindfang. You want to verify Meulin's suspicions and you want to plan what you'll do next. You don't think you'll get her to cooperate, but you can at least try.

So you wait until Meulin comes back and station a few animals at Mindfang's hive, to alert you when she's coming back. You fear that if she comes back to find you gone, it will send entirely the wrong signals.

(You're not sure what the right signals are, in this case. You really just want to know when she comes back.)

Meulin has gathered a few roots and berries for you, and you eat them absent-mindedly as she prepares her prey and starts scratching words onto the wall with their blood. You watch her for a while. Almost the whole cave is covered in  her writing now; only a few square inches are still free.

"You're almost done writing down his story," you say.

"Yes", she says, "at least as much as this cave will hold. If I had more space, I could write more stories, but I definitely got all the important ones. I only need to decide what to put here... and then I can finally die in peace."

The thought makes you sad. It's like you will watch all your friends die at once.

She's smiling, though; your distress must have been showing on your face.

"Don't grieve for me, Rufioh," she says lightly. "I've been looking forward to death since the day my Kankri died. I don't know if there's anything after death, but if there is, it means I'll be with him and Porrim and Mituna. And if there isn't, it just means I don't have to live without them anymore."

Almost against your will, you smile. "It sounds as if you've thought about this quite a lot."

She gives a short laugh. "I have," she says. "When you live in a cave and everyone you love is dead, you start thinking about these things. It seems so strange that it's all just supposed to be over afterwards. I don't know. I'm a scribe, not a philosopher. But whatever happens after death - it has got to be better than this."

You hesitantly agree with her.

 

 

Your timing is excellent; Mindfang comes home only minutes after you've come back to her hive. She finds you in her block, reading through one of the history books she keeps there.

"Rufioh, hey," she says uneasily. You look up, smile at her and reach out your hand. She takes it and you pull her towards you.

When you kiss her, it feels like it's all good again for a few seconds. She's still hesitant, she doesn't know how to approach you. But her lips are soft on yours, gentle and careful; neither of you wants to move too fast. It feels like the kisses you shared in the beginning, when everything was still very new to both of you.

When you break apart, she leans against you.

"Forgive me," she whispers.

You kiss her forehead.

"You know I can't", you say.

She sighs into your shoulder and you stroke her hair.

"I'm going to kill you," you say quietly, sadly.

She looks up. Her eyes are huge.

"Aren't I?" you add.

She laughs, a short, joyless laugh.

"How did you figure that out," she says.

You don't want to mention that you've visited Meulin or that you talked to Pyralspite for longer.

"You're easy to read," you say instead. "It was kind of obvious."

"How so?"

"You probably would have told me otherwise," you say.

She sighs.

"You're crazy, you are," you whisper. "You believe the oracle when it tells you this is going to happen. But I don't want to kill you. I don't even think I could."

She doesn't say anything.

"Are you going to tell me what will happen?" you ask.

You know the answer before she says it.

"No."

"Why?" you press anyway.

She rolls her eyes.

"Because you don't want to know," she says. "Believe me. I - I asked so much, I pretty much know everything that's going to happen in the next month or so. To me and to you. I know what happens to you after I die. And you don't want to know. Knowing what will happen makes everything incredibly boring. You should cherish your ignorance."

You know you have almost no chance of changing her mind, but you argue anyway. "If you tell me, we can brave what happens together. We can - I don't know, follow the script and catch the wind in our sails, so to speak. You don't have to carry this alone."

She smiles sadly.

"Of course I do," she says. "If you knew what will happen, you'd try to find a way around it. You will never willingly do anything that you know will lead to my death. So I'm keeping you in the dark, playing my cards, and gently taking you there. Step by step. Until I die."

You swallow heavily.

"Okay," you say. "Okay. I don't want you to die, but okay."

She laughs, a little warmer this time. "It's not like I'm particularly keen on dying either," she says. "But I learned about this more than a hundred sweeps ago. I've accepted it. I had the chance to live my life as I wanted to, I've hated, I've loved." She smiles at you. "I can't complain. A lot of people get a lot less than me."

You kiss her. You wish you were as okay with her dying as she seems to be. You're keeping calm, storing away your despair and anger for later, because you don't want to break down in her presence again.

You wonder what it would be like if the positions were reversed - if you had done something to jeopardise her mission and she would have to kill you.

You're reasonably sure that she wouldn't have to fight with that nearly as much as you. She's used to killing, she's probably killed hundreds of trolls in her life. Granted, none of them were her matesprit - but you've never killed anyone ever, and you don't want her to be the first. You don't want to kill anyone; you want her to die even less.

The whole thing is just depressing to you, so you decide to change the subject.

"So," you say. "You're not going to tell me what happens with us. But can you tell me if this - my revolution - if it will be successful?"

She draws back a little and looks at you for a few long seconds.

"No," she then says. "I mean, yes, theoretically, I could tell you. But I won't."

You don't even ask why. You're sure she will explain to you in a moment anyway.

"You see," she says. "If the answer is yes, then you'll be under a huge amount of pressure to do everything right. If the answer is no, you might just give up because it won't be worth it anyway, right? And neither of those things are things that should happen. So I'm not going to tell you."

She hesitates, then adds quietly, "I do wish I would stick around long enough to see it, though."

"I bet," you say. "Has it occurred to you that everything the oracle says is only coming true because you're accepting it as a given? Have you ever actually tried to go against it?"

She snorts, indignant. "Of course," she says. "Do you think I'm stupid? When I only just got the oracle, I asked all sorts of questions just to test it. Its owner told me that it always told the truth, so out of spite, I decided to prove him wrong. I asked simple things, like what I would have for dinner or where I would go the next day. And every time I decided to do something else, things happened that lead to whatever the oracle said would happen. Again and again and again. Until eventually, I was almost convinced that simply by asking the oracle, I was causing things to happen that might not even have happened otherwise."

She sighs. "But did that stop me from asking? No, of course not. I just stopped going against it. It didn't make whatever the oracle said any less true. I've asked millions of questions and none of the answers have ever been wrong. Ever."

You take a deep breath. You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

"And the oracle said you would die by my hands?" you whisper.

"The Summoner will be your matesprit, and he will kill you," she says softly. "That's what it said, the exact words."

You don't say anything.

"It's funny," Mindfang says. "At the time, I found it a lot harder to believe that I would have a matesprit than that said matesprit would kill me. I'm used to threats of death."

You pull her towards you and kiss her again. She leans in to you and kisses you back, her tongue sliding over your lips. It feels nice to hold her, her lips against yours, until you remember that you're going to lose her.

"I love you," you whisper.

She kisses you again.

"I love you too," she says.

You feel tears again. You don't want to cry.

"You're so stupid," you say softly. "Why did you have to ask about your death, Aranea?"

She sighs. "You know me," she simply says.

"Yes," you say, "and sometimes I really wish I didn't."

She nestles against you. "Don't say that."

You look at her. "It's true, though," you say. "From the day I met you you've only made my life complicated. You demand my love even though you know I'm too busy to hold up a proper matespritship. You antagonise me and you don't know if you want it red or black and now you're putting me through this. I - I didn't want any of this, Aranea. I wanted a revolution; I didn't want a matesprit who keeps putting everything into danger. I never wanted to have to kill anyone."

She huffs. "Do you think I asked for this?"

"Yes," you say, "as a matter of fact, you did."

She sighs.

"Do you want to go to bed?" she asks.

"Not yet," you say.

You can't say what will happen. You only know that everything she does, everything she says only makes you feel worse about everything. She wanted to flip black; now, you're tempted to let that happen.

But right now, you're still red for her. And if you allow it to flip later on, if your matesprit will become your kismesis, then at least you want to have one more night that's completely red.

You draw her in and kiss her.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

When she leaves the next evening, you leave with her. You don't tell her what your plans are. She probably knows anyway - or even if she doesn't, you don't think you need to share it with her.

Besides, it's not even like you'll be doing anything important. You meet up with Pyralspite and fly around aimlessly; she has a lot of things to say about what Mindfang said and you find that for once, you agree with them. You allow your conversation with your lusus to stir up your hate for Mindfang. Pyralspite is patient, fans the fires, agrees with you in every bad thing you have to say about your matesprit. It feels good, letting it all out, and you don't know if you cry or scream more. You talk about how unbelievable it is that she asked the oracle and still finds ways to make you feel responsible for what's happening. How cowardly of her to just accept her fate. How inconsiderate to drag you into everything.

And when you voice the suspicion that if she hadn't had the oracle, she wouldn't be your matesprit, Pyralspite wholeheartedly agrees with you.

_And it would be better_ , you say coldly, _it would be so much better than this._

_But you can't leave her now_ , Pyralspite says.

_No_ , you agree. _It doesn't even matter if I love her or hate her. I'm in too deep, and I have to kill her._

Now that your feelings have flipped black, you find it easier to accept that you'll be the one to kill her. You're almost angry enough to anticipate it, but you know very well that you only have to be together with her again for those feelings to disappear.

Because at the end of the day, you love her and nothing is going to change that.

_I need to go back_ , you tell Pyralspite. _Colvea might come by again._

You feel Pyralspite's approval of your moirallegiance with Colvea. _At least she isn't working against you._

You sigh. Pyralspite pushes you with her nose and says, _I'm going back to the camp. But if you need me, I'm only a call away._

You nod and watch her as she speeds up, away from you. With another sigh, you turn around and fly back to Mindfang's hive.

As you predicted, Colvea is waiting for you. You didn't station any animals near Mindfang's hive because tonight, you don't really care if she comes back to find you gone; it was a mistake, however, you realise, because Colvea made the journey out here without any protection.

She waves away your concerns, saying that you are in much more danger than she is at the moment.

"Did you talk to her?" she asks.

You don't have to ask to know who she means.

"Yeah," you say. "And... it's complicated. How is everything going in the city?"

Colvea sighs. "Not well," she says. "Nothing is working, nobody is responding, and I know it's because of what she's doing. I caught glimpses of her again. Whatever you said to her, it's not working."

You keep silent. Before, you'd hoped that Mindfang had found some way to keep herself out of your revolution, but it seems she's just as persistent in hindering you as she was before - if not more so.

Now, with your newly found black feelings for her, you almost see it as a challenge. She has to stop, and you're going to make her stop.

And if that means killing her, then so be it.

"I'll handle it," you say confidently.

Colvea looks at you sceptically.

"Has she gotten to you, too?" she asks.

The honest answer is yes, but not in the way she thinks. Mindfang hasn't invaded your mind and made you believe something that's not there. But she's still gotten to you. Everything that's happened in the past few days has changed your view of her, the world, and yourself dramatically.

"No," you say nevertheless. "If she used her mind tricks on me, I'd notice - she's tried that before."

Colvea raises an eyebrow. "She's your matesprit, and she's tried to control you?!"

You nod. "She's a very special person."

After a moment of hesitation, you add, "And I'm not so sure she's my matesprit anymore. It's all just really weird and complicated at the moment."

"I see," Colvea says. "To be honest, it's not that important. I mean, to you, of course, but anyway. Do you know what you're going to do about her yet?"

You take a deep breath.

"I have a vague idea," you say.

"Which is?"

"I'm going to kill her."

Colvea stares at you.

"She's your matesprit," she says softly. "Or at least she was. You're - you're serious, aren't you?"

You shrug. "Do I have a choice?" you ask. "It's either that, or go back to the Cavalreapers with our tail tucked between our legs. She's not going to stop opposing us, she told me as much. Our revolution needs to get bigger and expand, and it needs to be seen and heard. She's keeping us from being successful. And her death would certainly stir up some things. Do you know who she is?"

Colvea shakes her head slowly. "A blueblood," she says. "An enemy."

"Marquise Spinneret Mindfang."

Colvea draws in a sharp breath. "You're shitting me."

You almost smile. Mindfang is notorious, even with those who were hatched decades after her most glorious time as a pirate was over. Colvea's reaction shows you that maybe, just maybe, your plan is going to work.

"It's her, Colvea," you say.

"I thought she was a myth," Colvea breathes. "But really - the legendary pirate - and she's here, and she's your - how do you know she's not just pretending?"

"My lusus knew her," you say. "She was the one who burned out Mindfang's eye. Have you heard of Neophyte Redglare?"

Silently, Colvea nods.

"Pyralspite was her lusus before."

Colvea seems overwhelmed.

"Rufioh, holy shit," she whispers. "I had no idea. Fucking hell, you really are important, aren't you."

You laugh, almost sadly. "The world seems to think so."

"Wow," Colvea says. "Wow. I mean - you saw the Demoness too, didn't you?"

You nod. You're still not completely recovered from that encounter, and you try not to think about it.

"Anyway," you say. "About Mindfang. I think I've got a plan."

Colvea looks at you. "Do tell," she says.

"So you know about her, right? You've heard of her, even though she was successful ages ago. You think others have heard about her as well?"

"Of course," Colvea says. "She's famous. I'd be surprised if anyone hadn't heard of her. Just because nobody knows what she's doing just now... or, almost nobody, I guess. What's your plan?"

"We can use her," you say. "Who knows, maybe she'll even cooperate, at least with this first part -" When Colvea looks sceptical, you add, "She's absolutely crazy, you have to understand. It will make sense to her."

Colvea doesn't look convinced.

"Anyway, the first part is, we spread word among the Cavalreapers that Spinneret Mindfang is opposing us. As far as I know, there are several highbloods who already know about it, maybe enough for word to reach the Condesce. I can probably persuade Mindfang to go more public in her campaign against us. We'll make it known that she's opposing us."

"Okay," Colvea says. "Keep going."

"We'll wait until people know about her," you say. "We'll keep breeding our revolution as we've done before, with the Cavalreapers and escaped slaves. You and the others will leave the city and I'll sort of... I don't know, be here and there, not sure yet. But eventually, I'll challenge her to a duel. A public duel, as public as possible, and I'll kill her."

Colvea nods.

"And you say she's the crazy one," she says. "You do realise that she's stronger and more dangerous than you, not to mention a few hundred sweeps of experience that you just don't have? She'll kill you, and that will be the end of everything."

You shake your head.

"No," you say. You aren't too keen on explaining about prophecies and oracles and how goddamn _angry_ you are with Mindfang. You just say, "She won't kill me."

"You're absolutely nuts," Colvea says. "This is the craziest thing you've ever come up with."

"Once she's dead, our revolution will have the momentum it needs to become successful."

"And I'm not denying that," Colvea sighs, "but why do you have to be the one to kill her? Why can't you just take her captive and have your dragon execute her? It's far too dangerous, and you're going to die."

You think about it for a moment. Mindfang could have deceived you, told you she was going to die when in reality, it is you who's going to lose his life. Or you might kill each other, and neither of you will survive. Maybe you'll die.

But you remember what she said, only a few days ago: _I know what will happen to you after I die._

It was carelessly spoken, giving away more than she intended, and you know she wasn't lying - she was far too emotional for that at the time. And it tells you all you need to know.

"I'm not going to die," you say. "At least not by her hands."

_Rufioh_ , you feel Pyralspite's voice, and listen inwards immediately.

_You're making the same mistake as Mindfang_ , your lusus says. _You're relying on the prophecy. If there's anything you've learned from this it's that you should never do that. Colvea is right. Mindfang is dangerous, and she could kill you far easier than you her. You need to train._

"It needs to be a public duel between her and me because it will show people that I am strong," you say. "So far, mostly people have heard about my animals, my army, my dragon. They know of me and they know I can command. But nobody is going to trust me in the long run if I can't fight. If I can't kill. Mindfang is our most prominent adversary, and if I kill her, nobody will ever doubt me again."

Colvea nods.

"I understand that, and it's a good plan," she says. "But you need to start training."

_You see, she agrees with me_ , Pyralspite says, smugly. You ignore her.

"And you need to get used to fighting, and killing," Colvea adds. "You usually let your animals and your soldiers fight for you. Those times are over, Rufioh, at least if you really want to go through with this ridiculous plan of yours."

You nod heavily.

You don't like it, but it's necessary.

You wonder, vaguely, if you'd gone down this way too if Mindfang hadn't confirmed that you would indeed be the one to kill her. It's likely, you think, that you would have tried your hardest to find a way around killing her, or her dying altogether.

You wonder how she managed to convince you to just accept whatever the oracle said. How she managed to flip your feelings to black even though you never wanted them to.

"Let's go back," you say. "Back to the camp. Tomorrow. Find the others and let them know. Once we're back, we'll move camp so it's closer to here. I'll keep an eye on Mindfang and I'll train. You know I'm good at sparring... we need to find things for me to kill."

Colvea looks at you, worry in her eyes.

"Are you sure she didn't get to you?" she asks. "You don't sound like you."

You sigh. "I know," you say. "But she didn't... I mean, yeah, she did, but not like that. She's my matesprit. Of course this isn't just..."

Colvea shoots you a sympathetic look and holds out her arms to you. You let her embrace you gratefully.

"I'm glad I've got you," you say.

Colvea laughs. "I'm glad you've got me too," she says. "Without me, you'd probably be dead already."

"Probably," you agree.

"Even though you're making a good effort either way," she says dryly. "You just keep attracting trouble, don't you?"

"Hey, I didn't ask for it."

She grins and lets go of you. "No," she says. "But you could have avoided a lot of this. If Mindfang wasn't your matesprit, you'd have your dragon kill her."

"But we wouldn't have this opportunity now," you argue.

"Maybe we wouldn't need it," Colvea says.

You don't answer. You don't know what would be if you'd never met Mindfang. The only thing you can do is deal with the situation you have now.

And it's difficult enough without thinking about what could or might be.

You hear something near the house. Colvea and you are at the back, near the beach, so you can't see the main entrance. When Colvea wants to say something, you hold up your hand and listen more closely.

"She's back," you tell Colvea. "She's looking for me."

Colvea looks around uneasily. "I should go," she says, in the same moment that Mindfang turns around the corner and sees you.

Her sight fills you with hate. You want to hurt her.

You step protectively in front of Colvea.

"There you are," Mindfang says.

"We need to talk," you say coldly, without greeting her. "Wait for me inside."

Mindfang grins. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend? - We met, didn't we? But I don't know her name."

You scowl at her.

"Colvea," you then say anyway. "My moirail."

"Marquise," Colvea says softly.

Mindfang looks at her for a long moment, and then at you.

"Inside," she then says, calmly. "Don't take too long." And with that, she turns around and leaves.

When she's gone, Colvea almost laughs. "Awkward."

You grimace. "Sorry about that."

Colvea looks at you. "Moirail, huh?"

You shrug and grin. "Am I wrong?"

She laughs again, shakes her head and hugs you.

"Should I meet you here in the evening to go back to the camp, or are you coming by yourself?" she asks.

"I'll wait for you." You're not sure if you'll even stay with Mindfang for the day. Right now, you're not sure if you want to go in and break every bone in her body, or if you never want to see her again at all.

Colvea nods.

"Look after yourself," she says.

"You too."

 

 

She's waiting for you, even though she's gone through a lot of trouble to make it look like she isn't; she's sitting at a table poring over some scrolls, maps maybe, and has her back turned to you.

She doesn't react when you let the door fall shut behind you. Your steps echo through the spacious hall and you've almost reached her when she finally raises her voice.

"A moirail?"

You try to suppress the fury in your voice.

"If you harm her, I will kill you," you say.

Mindfang looks up at you, her eyebrows raised.

"Are you kidding me?" she asks.

You reach out, grab her hair roughly, pull back her head. Something flashes in her eyes. She doesn't resist you; her throat is exposed and you know you could kill her, right here, right now, spill her cerulean blood all over the maps she holds so dear.

"I will break every miserable bone in your body," you say, your voice low. "I'll rip out your organs, one by one, leaving the most important ones for last so you suffer longer."

A pained grin flashes over her face as you grip her hair harder.

"Not if I get you first," she whispers. "I'll tie you up, and find your little peasantblood moirail and make her bleed to death before your eyes, how would you like that?"

"I'd make you regret it for every second of your wretched painful life after that," you hiss through clenched teeth. When you release her hair, she doesn't waste a moment and her lips are on yours, harder than they've ever been. You bite her lips, bite her so hard you're almost worried your teeth will go straight through the skin. She hisses and you pull back before she can bite you. She doesn't let you put your mouth on her; she keeps you back with sheer force, and her eyes meet yours.

She doesn't even seem surprised by you flipping black for her. You think to yourself bitterly that she probably knew. Not because she knows you so well or because she saw the signs - no, because the oracle told her, sweeps ago.

The thought makes you angrier and you push her backwards until you meet a wall. Her hands are on your shoulders, still keeping you back, but you can reach up and take a hold of her horns. You grip them tightly and she groans - the pressure you're putting on her horns is definitely bad enough to hurt, though you're careful not to be too rough. If you break her horns, you'll never be able to reforge your matespritship with her.

Instead, you press her against the wall and _push_ with your mind.

It's not something you've done before, other than with animals, but you find that the principle is the same even if it's a troll. Mindfang's mind is more complex and has more barriers, far more, but you can feel them being taken down as she comes to meet you.

You feel her pushing back, then, and her hand closes around your horn. She's only exerting the minimum amount of force against your mind and it's already challenging you, so you push harder, your fingers digging into her horns. With every bit of force, her resistance grows. You know you'll never get through unless she wants you to.

Once that realisation has settled in, you're not strong enough anymore, even though you try. She pushes past you, into your mind, where she doesn't order you to do anything, but you get flashes of memories and your own thoughts and know she is sifting through your mind.

Dammit, you don't want that. You push her back, physically as well, and release her horns; a moment later, she's gone and you open your eyes to find her staring at you.

"We don't have to do this," she whispers.

Just before you pushed her from your mind, she stumbled over the badly hidden fact that you don't want it to be black.

But the very fact that she knows, that she thinks she can offer you a choice now enrages you again.

"Yes, we do," you hiss and come in to kiss her again. She lets you, and for a moment she's almost gentle before sucking your tongue into her mouth and biting down so hard you can taste your own blood. You don't let that deter you, though; ignoring the pain, you grab her hair and scratch your nails over her neck. She moans into your mouth and presses herself against you.

And black desire, you learn, is just as potent as red as she pushes a hand into your trousers and you feel cool metal against your bulge. You don't know if she can even feel much with her robotic hand, but you don't care, you just grind yourself against her hand and tug her closer by her hair. She gasps, curls her hand around you, a bit harder than she usually does, and you growl and push up her dress to touch her.

And then she withdraws from your bulge, looks at you and pushes you backwards so your hips meet the table she was sitting at. You claim her lips with yours again and turn her around so it's her against the table, and damn if you don't want to fuck her on this table here and now because it will be harsh and rough and uncomfortable as hell and it will make a mess of her maps which she will absolutely hate.

So you push her down and she resists, guessing your intent, but you feel like she isn't struggling as much as she should or could. You push up her dress and she pulls it over her head while you bite your way down her neck and her back, strong enough to hurt but just barely not drawing blood. She seems to enjoy it, which you absolutely hate, so you bite deeper until she bucks up, pushes you back with a force you're not expecting and turns around so she's facing you.

"Oh no," she whispers darkly. "We're doing this my way."

You growl and grip her arms, but you can't turn her back around because she's simply stronger than you. You have trouble thinking of anything but her in this moment, but some far-off corner of your think pan registers that Colvea and Pyralspite are right - you will need to train in order to beat her.

Instead, you nudge her legs apart with your knee and move in, your bulge winding itself out of your trousers. You kiss her forcefully, tongues battling for dominance as she pushes down your pants, completely freeing your bulge. You barely register her nails tearing your shirt to bloody shreds as you pull her against you, wedged against you and the table, and curl your bulge around hers.

She has the audacity to reach between you to separate your bulges. She pushes you away when you growl and want to claim her again and hops up to sit on the edge of the table.

"Now, pretty boy, come here and take me," she hisses.

_Pretty boy_. She's never called you anything like that before, and it infuriates you. You want nothing more than to do as she says and take her, but it's what she wants too, so you don't.

Instead, you free yourself from her grasp and step away, breathing hard.

Her eyes focus and she composes her almost-grin into a scowl.

"You're surprisingly good at this," she says. "Given that you've never done this before."

You don't answer.

She pouts. "Do I have to come and take what I want from you?"

You snarl at her. "Turn around."

She holds your gaze. "No. I told you, we're doing this my way."

"What if I don't want to play your way anymore?" you snap at her. "What if, for once in your pathetic little life, you have to play by my rules this time?"

She rolls her eyes. "That's just not going to happen," she says. "It's my way, or not at all."

You want to walk away and leave her be, but you simply can't.

Probably because the sight of her naked body and her unsheathed bulge does _things_ to you and you can't possibly leave her now.

So you come in, kiss her again, and you know she'll count this as a victory for her but you're way past caring. Your bulge reaches for her, and this time, she lets you. Her fangs scape over your collarbone as your bulge slips into her nook and she breathes a moan that lets you know she's waited for this, wanted this, and you hate nothing more than giving it to her but you start to move anyway.

It's not the slow and gentle sex you usually have; your movements are frantic, almost erratic, and you scratch her back until you feel blood under your nails and hear her breath come shorter. She's giving little shrieks, almost screams when you bite down on her shoulder, and when she reaches down to touch her bulge, you rip her hand away.

You pail first, pulling out of her to paint her skin, the table, her maps, the floor brown, and even though you did your best not to let her, she comes moments after. Her eyelids flutter shut as she pails and she reaches for you, blindly, and when you step out of her reach, she lets herself fall back onto the table.

She's breathing hard, and so are you, and the best thing you can imagine now is taking a shower in her wonderful ablution trap but you're aware she's probably not going to let you.

"You ruined my maps," she says, still sounding slightly delirious.

"Good," you snarl. "You won't have much longer to enjoy them anyway."

She sits up and brushes her hair out of her face. You hate yourself for thinking that she's beautiful, so beautiful, her usually flawless skin maimed by bites and scratches and painted with cerulean and brown.

"You're so stupid," she says softly. "They're not for me."

You look at her, eyebrows raised. She turns around and pulls out a piece of parchment, crinkled and stained so the fine lines are almost all smudged and unrecognisable.

"Remember that guy I told you about, who lives in a cave no one can find?" she says.

You don't want to be, but you're intrigued. "Darkleer."

She nods. "I wanted to give the map to you, in case I - in case I didn't get the chance to show you myself."

You take the map from her. Your initial assessment remains accurate. You can't see anything on it.

"Show me," you demand. "Take me there."

She nods.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid I won't be updating as much in the next two to three weeks because I'll be very busy. I'll try to publish at least one chapter a week anyway.   
> The writing process is going fairly well. With a bit of luck, I might be able to finish this story before the new semester starts! :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay first of all I am SO SORRY for not updating for so long. I've been busier than I expected and haven't had wifi for far longer than expected (and will continue to not have wifi at home for at least another week... grrrrrrr). So it'll probably be a while until the next update. Forgive me, I hope you stay with me anyway :)
> 
> The writing process is going a bit slow too, because of the busy-ness, and also because everything is getting super dramatic and painful as I'm sure you're aware. But it will get written, and hopefully finished rather soon.
> 
> Another story is going to happen after this one which will (hopefully) be a lot shorter. So keep reading :D

 

 

You take the first shower, surprised that she lets you, but you suspect it may have to do with the fact that you both look like hell and Mindfang says it won't do to meet Darkleer in torn and bloody clothes.

When you get out of the ablution trap, Mindfang surprises you by giving you clean clothes which actually fit. She barely looks at you as she goes into the shower, or afterwards when she puts on a clean dress.

"Come on then," she says. "If we leave now, we might make it back here before dawn."

She leads the way, you trail after her. You think about flying rather than walking, but somehow, you don't feel like it.

You manage all of ten minutes without saying a word, then you can't stand it anymore.

"Aranea," you say.

She turns around and scowls. "Don't call me that when we're black."

You catch up with her. You don't know what to say. All the anger, all the hate is gone. You just want some peace.

So instead of saying anything, you take her hand.

She sighs and after a long moment, leans in to you. You kiss her forehead and when she turns her head to look at you, you kiss her lips as well - very gently, sweetly, because you can still taste the blood and know that anything else will hurt her.

And you don't want that.

She pulls back quite soon and looks at you. You raise a hand and trace the outline of her lips with your thumb, rubbing away the remnants of blood.

"Come on," she then says, her voice slightly coarse. She keeps hold of your hand as she starts walking again, and you fall into step beside her.

"If you keep flipping this fast," she says after a few moments, "this could get pretty exhausting."

You don't say anything for a while, just hold her hand and walk on.

Then you raise your voice. "I - I won't be around all the time. So, not too exhausting, I hope."

She squeezes your hand.

"Could you - could you try to be around most of the time?" she asks so quietly you almost don't understand her.

"I don't know," you say. "I - I hope so. We're moving camp so we're closer to you. But my people can't know I have a connection to you..." You suddenly realise that she knew, she knew from the start, and she probably knows about your plans as well even though you haven't told her. She's been working this way since the beginning.

She made sure nobody ever knew about your matespritship with her, which serves to make your plan possible now.

The comprehension must be showing on your face, because she laughs and leans in to kiss your cheek. "Got there finally, have you?"

You don't know what to say, so you let go of her hand to sling your arm around her shoulders and pull her closer.

"I'll be around as much as I can," you promise.

She nods.

"I suppose it's selfish of me," she says softly. "To want you with me all the time - but - I'm dying, my time is running out, and can you really blame me for wanting to spend as much of it as possible with the only troll I really love?"

You stop walking, turn around and kiss her. She responds, winding her arms around you.

"I don't blame you," you say when you break apart. "But all I can do is try to make as much time for you as possible. I can't be missing all the time. You know that. It's... and the more time I'll spend apart from you, the blacker it'll be."

She nods and kisses you again.

"I wish none of this had happened," she whispers. "I wish none of us had this history and the roles we have to play, and we could just be happy together for the rest of our lives, however long that would be."

You say nothing, you just pull her close and hold her, almost cradle her against you. The wounds she inflicted on you earlier are still stinging, but at the moment you can barely imagine ever being black for her again.

"Let's get going," you then say quietly. "We don't have that long until dawn."

She lets go of you but takes your hand again as she starts walking.

"Are you going to tell me about your plans?" she asks after a few minutes.

You chuckle. "Don't you know all about them already?"

She rolls her eyes. "I know most of what's going to happen. That's probably different from knowing what you're planning at the moment. So, what's your plan?"

You deliberate for a moment, but then decide that she's a crucial part of your plans, and she deserves to know. So you tell her what you told Colvea; that you're going to make her involvement with the movement against you public, that you're going to try and go more public as well, that you're going to challenge her.

Your throat feels tight as you tell her that you plan on training hard so you can beat her in a fight.

Mindfang nods, understanding in her eyes.

"Interesting plan," she says.

"So, are you going to help me?"

She casts you a glance from the side. "You mean, oppose you more so you can make the most of my death?" she asks, sounding amused.

You swallow heavily.

"Of course I will, Rufioh," she says gently. "I told you, I'll lead you through this. I'm going to be here and I'll need you to stay with me until the very end. I'll flip black and I'll flip red whenever you do, and I'll do anything I can to make this easier for you. Anything at all."

You silently squeeze her hand.

"We're almost there," Mindfang says only seconds later and points to a mountain range that's been growing progressively closer as you were walking. And indeed, only a few minutes later you're standing right in front of what looks like a solid stone wall.

Mindfang keeps walking confidently, though, and it looks like you're going to run straight into the stone. But as you get close to it - mere inches, it seems - you see that it's in fact two walls who are so similar in colour that they blend seamlessly into one. Even the shadows the two moons are casting do nothing to distinguish them.

"Through here," Mindfang says.

"I see what you mean," you say softly. "I would never have found this place alone."

She tugs you forward and now that you're standing between the two walls, you can see a small, dark entrance to a cave a few yards away. She leads you to it.

"Darkleer?" she calls.

"Come in," a voice says.

Mindfang gestures to you to stay outside as she lets go of your hand and steps inside. You can still hear what's said inside.

"Mindfang," the voice (Darkleer, presumably) says. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," Mindfang says. "I wanted to introduce you to someone. Can he come in?"

"Sure."

You edge forwards a bit until you can see Mindfang. She's looking at you, beckoning you in, and you carefully step inside the cave.

It's badly illuminated, but looks like it's a bit bigger than Meulin's cave and it smells very heavily of sweat. What little you can see of the cave is cluttered with mechanical-looking equipment and metal body parts.

He must have made Mindfang's arm, you realise.

The cave's inhabitant is massive, with bigger muscles than you will ever have any hope of building, and his whole body is visibly covered in sweat. He wears a helmet. His blood is blue, a little darker than Mindfang's, and under any other circumstances, you'd automatically classify him as an enemy.

"This is the Summoner," Mindfang introduces you, and, gesturing to him, "Executor Darkleer. Well... not Executor anymore."

Darkleer eyes you from head to toe, the corners of his mouth tugging down. He holds out a heavy, sweaty hand to you.

"Summoner," he says.

You gingerly take his hand and shake it, trying not to be too peeved out by the cold sweat he's covered in, or the fact that even though he seems to hold himself back a lot, your hand aches from the force that he grips it. "It's just a title," you say. "My name is Rufioh."

He nods.

"My name is Horuss," he says. "Any friend of Mindfang's is a friend of mine. Do you need anything? A - a replacement body part, perhaps?"

"Not at the moment, thanks." You smile at him, tentatively. "Mindfang mostly wanted to show me this place because she thinks it'd be a good hiding place. For if - when I need it."

Horuss nods. "You may stay whenever you like, for as long as you like. Are you in danger?"

You smile thinly. "I will be, eventually," you say. "You might not have heard of me, but I'm... trying to lead a revolution. Against the Condesce, and the highbloods."

Horuss laughs. "Good luck with that, kid," he says, not unfriendly. "It's gonna get tough, considering your..." He lets the sentence run out without finishing it as he looks you up and down.

"My blood?" you ask.

He sort of shrugs. "Yeah," he says. "Though technically I've given up judging people for their blood colour. It doesn't really do me any good. It's not like it ever has."

He takes a towel and wipes the sweat from his face.

"You probably know the story," he says "The mistake that ruined my life."

You nod.

"I don't want to call it a mistake, though," he says softly. "Even after everything - I wish I knew what she's doing now, if she's even still alive."

You swallow.

"She is," you say.

Darkleer looks up at you, sharply.

"You know her?" he says, his voice coarse.

You nod.

"I've wondered so often," Horuss says quietly. "I just wanted to know - do you think, maybe, if it isn't too much trouble, can you bring her here? Maybe?"

You press your lips together. "I can't promise anything, but I can try," you say. "She's not going to live much longer."

Horuss nods. "I understand."

"I should warn you, though," you add. "She might not be what you expect."

Horuss shrugs. "I don't care," he says. "I just want one chance to speak with her, just one. That's all."

"Then I can definitely try to give you that," you say.

 

 

Because you and Mindfang have to be at her hive before the sun rises, and because this was only supposed to be a very short visit to show you where Horuss lives, you and Mindfang take your leave quite soon. You try not to listen as she says her goodbyes to him, telling him this is the last time he'll see her. When she comes out after you, her look tells you that she knows you heard. She silently takes your hand and starts walking.

"He's one of the saddest people I've ever met," you say softly as soon as you're sure Horuss's cave is out of earshot. It's easier to talk about him than to think about what she just told him.

She nods. "He's really just sitting in there waiting out his time," she says. "He doesn't really live anymore. It's - you should bring Meulin here, it would help him."

You nod. "I'll definitely try. I don't know when or how, but I'll try."

After a moment's hesitation, you add, "He seems so harmless. I mean, he's strong and could probably crush anyone like a bug if he wanted to. But it's hard to believe he used to be one of the Threshecutioners."

Mindfang shrugs. "He's soft, and it was his undoing when he saved Meulin," she says. " I don't know why, but she must have sparked something in him - awoken his true altruistic nature... he seemed to like you, though. You don't have anything to fear from him."

You believe her without hesitation. Horuss may be a former executioner, and he seems a little unstable, but you don't think he'll ever legitimately pose any danger to your life.

"Do you think we'll make it home before dawn?" In the east, the sky is already getting light. Mindfang creases her brow, worried.

"If we walk fast," she says, taking your hand again. You reach out to Pyralspite, ask her if she has the time to shield you and Mindfang from the sun if you shouldn't make it, but you find her extremely unwilling to do anything good for Mindfang at all.

"Pyralspite can't come and help us, so let's get going", you tell her.

 

 

You make it back to her hive with seconds to spare, and because you feel like you need to, you make love in her block in the reddest possible way as the rising sun casts its rays through the window.

Afterwards, you lie in her sopor cocoon with her, as you have done a few times before. Sleep comes easily, and you're glad for it because if you stayed awake for for longer, you're sure the black, hateful thoughts against Mindfang would catch up with you again.

But even so, you're not safe from them. You wake before the sun has set; Mindfang is still asleep, and as you lie in the sopor waiting for her to wake up, the anger bubbles to the the surface. She may have good intentions, and she may have planned all this from the very beginning - it's still not fair, although or maybe even because you love her. You start to doubt everything, from her love to you to her alleged plan to help your revolution to her promise to make this easier for you. Because nothing she's doing is helping, and you're angry at her for even trying, because when she does, she makes you love her again.

And you know you love her, you know you won't stop loving her and you know that when she's dead, you'll mourn her and it will hurt harder than anything you've ever felt. It doesn't matter how black you are for her at any given moment.

You want to cry again.

When Mindfang finally wakes, she wakes slowly, her eyes blinking open and focussing on you, then closing again as she curls up, closer to you. You don't push her away even though you're tempted to.

She takes a few minutes to wake up fully and eventually to climb out of the sopor. You get out after her and start cleaning your wings from the slime. When she reaches for you, you step out of the way.

"Hmm," she murmurs. "Black day?"

You look at her for a long moment.

"I'm not sure yet," you then say honestly.

She nods. "Go take a shower, I'll wait here for you."

When you get out of the shower, she's sitting on the sofa, almost falling asleep again. You touch her shoulder and she opens her eyes.

"I'm meeting Colvea and going back to the camp," you say. "I'm not sure when I'll be back here. Hopefully not more than a few days."

She reaches for you, and this time, you let her pull you in for a kiss. The wounds you dealt her yesterday must still hurt, but you graze her lips with your teeth anyway - not quite biting, but rough enough to smudge the line between red and black.

She moans into the kiss, but before she can pull you in closer, you break away.

"Please don't stay away for too long," she whispers.

You're torn between telling her you'll do your best and snapping that you won't bother visiting her except to kill her.

So you just say nothing and kiss her again. She bites you gently, and you can feel the small jab of pain but you're not bleeding.

And then you leave, because you're sure if you stay any longer, she'll never let you go.

 

 

When you step outside, Colvea isn't there yet, so you send out a few animals to look for her. She's with you a few minutes later.

Bitterly, you reflect that Mindfang has done a good job in scaring away your allies. Instead of gaining more, some of the Cavalreapers Colvea took with her are now missing; she tells you she looked for them, but they weren't where they were supposed to be, and she fears Mindfang got to them as well.

It makes your heart beat fully black again. But instead of rushing back to her hive and acting on your impulse, you grit your teeth and turn to Colvea.

"Let's go," you say.

 

 

Pyralspite meets you, Colvea and the others halfway to the camp. Neither her nor Gryff are able to communicate with any of the trolls there, but she can roughly tell you what's happening anyway: without you or Colvea to guide things, the camp has fallen into near anarchy.

_I was gone for four nights_ , you think, annoyed. _Four nights!_

_By the time you get back to the camp, it'll be almost five_ , Pyralspite corrects you. _You know the Cavalreapers. A few are trying to keep order, but more people come every day. They want to see the famed Summoner._

You sigh.

_We can't really stop taking them in_ , you say. _We'll need everyone we can get, eventually. Maybe once they learn that Mindfang is opposing us, some will change their mind._

_Don't hold out too much hope_ , Pyralspite says. _These people have nothing to lose._

You convey what you've learned to Colvea, and you spend the rest of the trip to the camp planning - how to get the situation back under control, how to greet the newcomers, how to set the tracks for your plan against Mindfang. You think it'd be best if you make a speech and tell everyone what's happened; Colvea disagrees, tells you it's better to keep everyone in the dark but seed rumours.

After a few minutes of discussion, you agree with her. There's no need to portray you as weak already - if you tell everyone you know who's opposing you, that means you must have gotten close enough at least to recognise her, which begs the question of why you didn't kill her at once. Nobody but Colvea can know Mindfang is your matesprit (kismesis), and she agrees with you on that.

Better to seed uncertainty and quiet fear rather than outright doubt of your leadership, Colvea says, because if the Cavalreapers - your own people - think you're not strong enough to lead them, they will rise up against you, and that's the last thing you need.

So you follow her advice. When you come to the camp, you are greeted with joy and enthusiasm; thousands rush to see you. You see old faces, but plenty of new ones as well, and you feel like you have to make an announcement either way, whether you want to or not.

So you quickly gather everyone around and welcome the new arrivals, tell them the mission in the city was undermined but you don't know by who (you hate lying to them), and say that you want the camp to be moved as soon as possible. As everyone disperses to pack up, you walk through the camp, listening and trying to settle disputes, talking to people you know and people you don't know. You feel like Pyralspite probably exaggerated the situation, as it's not so much anarchy as confusion - your people like to be told what to do, so one of the things you need to do is establish a better hierarchy.

You don't know what will happen, but you know you won't get away from the camp nearly as much as you would like. You have a month to build tensions, spread rumours and get yourself into shape physically. You have a month to come to terms with the fact you're going to kill your matesprit, and you only have a month to be there for her as she goes towards her death.

It won't be easy, and you have no idea how to find the time to do everything, but you suppose you'll manage somehow.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have reliable internet again (yaaayy!) so will probably go back to publishing future chapters faster. Thanks for sticking with me! :)

 

 

About three weeks later, you wake up with Mindfang in her sopor cocoon again.

Once again, as you have done for at least the past week, you wonder if it's the last time. Despite your insistent nagging, Aranea hasn't told you the exact date of her death.

Everything is going according to plan, and you hate every second of it. Your revolution is failing, your people are leaving you. Everybody knows who's behind the attacks on your revolts by now - you've even heard that the Condesce herself has had word of the notorious Marquise Spinneret Mindfang entering the fight on the Highbloods' side.

She's gone public, more public than you could ever have imagined. Your supporters saw her preaching in the marketplace - preaching against your ideals. She's very good at raising suspicion and fear against your cause.

And even though less than a month has passed, you know that now would be the ideal time to challenge her. Colvea has been pressing you to do something, and by now, she's not the only one anymore; you've gotten concerned or enraged people coming to you with anything from questions to thinly veiled threats to forceful demands to _just do something_.

Not tonight, though.

Because while you've tried your best to keep your revolution alive, to keep your people hopeful, you've flipped between red and black for Mindfang on a near daily basis, whether you were with her or not. As she predicted, it's extremely exhausting. Your reasons for flipping have changed over the weeks, but the force of your feelings hasn't, be it red or black.

And tonight is a red night.

She stirs in your arms and you wake her with a kiss. She kisses you back, winds her arms around you and breathes into your mouth when she draws back.

"Good evening," she murmurs.

Last night, it was black. Last night, you planned to challenge her today. Last night, you hoped it wouldn't flip, because you couldn't, you wouldn't kill her on a red night.

Every evening for the past week, you've had these thoughts. You're not sleeping well. You've started vacillating more quickly again, sometimes flipping two or three times a day. Maybe if you challenge her now, in the evening, it'll be black again by the time the duel is fought.

You pull her closer. She kisses her way up your neck, takes your earlobe between her lips. It hurts the tiniest bit because in the morning, she did the same thing but added her teeth.

You turn your head and kiss her deeply. She moans softly into the kiss.

When you draw away and look at her, she won't quite meet your eyes, but gets up and out of the sopor tank. You watch her as she moves across the room, and then get out after her.

"Can we just stay home tonight?" you ask her softly, winding your arms around her waist from behind her.

She tenses up against you.

"Rufioh -"

"I mean it," you say. "Let's just pretend we're not... enemies, Aranea. Let's pretend we're just matesprits, without revolutions and duels and... let's pretend we're the only two people in the world. Just for one night."

She turns around and kisses you softly.

"Okay," she whispers.

You honestly didn't expect her to agree, so you smile happily and pull her towards you. You're stronger now because of your training, almost her equal, as you've found out in a number of mock battles she insisted on.

One more night, just you and her.

You make love to her on the sofa, and when you're done, you cuddle and kiss for far longer than you've ever allowed yourself to. She seems happy, and for a while, you almost forget your troubles.

At least, until she draws back, sits up and orders you to get dressed.

"Sorry?" you ask, slightly sleepy.

"Get dressed," she repeats, pressing her mind against yours. You don't want to fight, so you do as she commands, finding your clothes and putting them on. She does the same, avoiding your eyes.

Just before she leaves the hive, she hugs you tight and kisses you.

"I love you," she says. "I love you. I love you."

You understand what's going on in less than a second.

"Aranea," you say helplessly. "No... not today. Not today."

She kisses you again, tears in her eyes.

"I love you."

You're frozen in place by the hold her mind has on you, and can only watch as she turns away and all but runs away from you.

 

 

Not today, you think, pray, hope over and over and over, not today, not today, not today.

She's still in your mind, keeping you in place, and after a few minutes, you find the courage to push back. She could probably feel your thoughts anyway, but you still find her mind.

_I'm not ready._

She doesn't reply.

_Aranea_ , you plead, panicking. And in response, she takes your will entirely, barely even allowing you to think for yourself. You move without moving, out of her hive, spreading your wings and flying to the market place.

She's already there; you can tell from her thoughts and emotions, even though you can't see her. She doesn't allow you to look at her. There's a platform, almost a stage; you land on it, in perfect sight of the whole square. People are gathering, looking up at you.

_At least let me do this myself_ , you plead, and then, your mind is free.

Free enough to speak, that is. You can tell she's still there. You can't run away from this.

"I am the Summoner," you say. Your voice is shaking only a little. You do your best not to show how frightened you are, how desperate, how hopeless.

And even though Mindfang is still in your mind, you reach out to Pyralspite. You're going to need her here. Pyralspite touches your mind only long enough to recognise Mindfang's presence, but you know she understands, and you know she's on her way here.

"I am here," you continue, addressing the trolls standing below you, "to respond to the threat that one specific troll is posing to me and my cause. You all know who she is. I have information that she is here today, so now is the time to end this."

You raise your voice.

"Marquise Spinneret Mindfang," you call, your voice resonating over the whole square. "I challenge you to settle this the way any honourable troll would. You're probably not an honourable troll, but still... I challenge you to a duel. One against one, you against me, as soon as you are willing. If you can hear me, Marquise" (and you know she can, you can practically hear your own words reflected back at you through her mind) "I invite you to take this chance, for an honourable death."

_Please don't make me do this._

A few seconds pass.

And then, another few. You remain still, silent, watching the crowd and scanning the surrounding buildings. Where is she?

Nothing happens for close to five minutes, and then, very suddenly, Mindfang withdraws from your mind completely. You're careful not to show your surprise; at the same time, you comb through your own mind, looking for her, because you don't trust this. You don't trust her.

But she's gone, and nothing happens, so after another few minutes, you descend from the platform.

_That was anticlimatic_ , Pyralspite comments.

 

 

You're meeting Colvea a little later. She knew about your plans; she's been in the city for days, waiting, and when she heard of your challenge, she sent out messengers to the camp.

"The news are spreading like wildfire, apparently," she says. "Everyone's relieved. And almost everyone thinks you're going to win. It's given people hope, even though she's not responded yet. You're sure she's going to respond?"

"Yes, of course," you say. "She has to."

"What if she just made you believe that she has to?"

"Colvea," you say, "we've been over this."

Colvea grimaces and shakes her head. "I don't see how you can still trust her like this, but okay. So now what?"

"Now, we wait," you say.

You hope that waiting will make this easier for you; maybe, the extra time will be enough for your feelings to flip black again.

But even after a few hours, that hasn't happened yet. The sky is already starting to get light in the east when you realise that Mindfang isn't going to answer your challenge. Not tonight.

You get up. "I need to go."

Colvea holds you back. "That's not a good idea."

You know she's right, but you shake her off anyway. You don't care who sees you as you fly to Mindfang's hive.

 

 

She's waiting for you.

"It was a bluff," you say, and seeing her almost makes your feelings flip. Almost. "You were bluffing."

She doesn't answer, but comes over to you and kisses you fiercely. You kiss her back, black melting into red as you hold her.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Why couldn't you wait?" you say. "We - we could have taken the night - just for ourselves, remember?"

She shakes her head. "It's never going to happen."

"But, Aranea -"

She silences you, a finger against your lips.

"I know," she simply says.

You kiss her, then swallow before asking, "When are you going to answer my challenge?"

She looks at you.

"Too soon," she then says quietly.

"Aranea," you say.

"I'll answer your challenge," she says. "I can't tell you when. But - you'll get a messenger before so you'll be in the right place when it happens. I - I love you."

She all but collapses against you and you kiss every corner of her skin that you can reach. She's breathing heavily, almost crying but not quite.

"I'm not ready, Aranea," you whisper.

She looks up at you.

"It doesn't matter," she says, her voice harsh. "You'll never be ready."

She's probably right, you think.

 

 

You barely sleep. When the sun sets, you finally slip into an exhausted slumber, only to be woken minutes later (at least, that's what it feels like).

Aranea is looking at you cautiously, and you know she's trying to figure out whether it's red or black this evening.

It takes every effort of will not to break out into tears as you realise that it's red, it's still red, possibly brighter and stronger than it has ever been.

She kisses you when she realises. You're able to hold her back for a few more minutes before she climbs out of the sopor tank, having barely said a word, and leaves.

You're tempted to stay here, in her hive, all night. If she can't find you in the city, you can't fight her in a duel.

But she's anticipated this; once again, you are pushed to your feet by her mind, and she only lets go of you once you're in the city with Colvea and the others.

 

 

This pattern repeats itself for the next few days. You always spend the day with Mindfang in her hive; she always leaves at sunset and makes you leave a few minutes later and you never know whether maybe tonight is the night.

You get more and more nervous as time passes. Sleep never comes easily. You try every night to flip black, thinking it will make things easier for you, but now that you're faced with the bitter reality that you will definitely lose her within the next few days, your red feelings are stronger than ever. You're angry, occasionally, but whenever you're with her, and whenever you think about her death, your fear of losing her overrules every angry thought.

And one night, nothing is different at all except when you join Colvea and the others, there's a messenger.

"She will accept your challenge," he says. He's a midblood you've never seen before, likely one of the civilians in the city. His eyes are glassy and his voice flat. "Tonight, at the market place."

And you try very, very hard not to freak out. Pyralspite is there, as is Colvea, and they both try to console you when the messenger is gone - one with her mind, the other with her touch.

It doesn't help.

You barely notice Colvea talking to the other Cavalreapers, telling them to spread the word. She keeps everyone away from you, helps you into your armour. When you're ready, you don't want to leave.

Eventually, Colvea manages to get you to go to the marketplace. You ascend gracefully when you're there, looking for Mindfang; she's surely waiting for you.

A crowd has gathered; more trolls are coming every second. You feel hundreds of pairs of eyes on you and know you cannot, must not show weakness. This is the most important moment in your whole life; this moment will define everything that is to come.

For a few minutes, you're almost sure she's not here, she's bluffing again. You want it to be true so badly it hurts.

But then, you hear the sound of a sword being drawn. Everyone else has heard it too; everyone's eyes are searching.

She takes your mind and directs your eyes.

She's standing tall on the roof of one of the buildings around the square, almost exactly opposite you. Her eyes meet yours. You can see fingers being pointed, whispers going through the crowd beneath you.

"Summoner," she says, her voice echoing loudly.

"I accept your challenge."

 

 

The Cavalreapers have had the fighting pit ready for days. The duel takes place outside the city, close to your camp. Pyralspite and Gryff are circling overhead; you're walking rather than flying.

It's an odd procession that's leaving the city. Mindfang is walking at the top with you, but several yards out of your reach. Colvea, as well as a few other high-ranking Cavalreapers, are crowding around you protectively. Several hundred, maybe even thousands of people are following you from the city. You know it'll get more; the Cavalreapers will join them, as well as anyone else who happens to be passing by.

Mindfang's mind is brushing against yours, not controlling, just gently probing.

She wants to know how you're holding up, if you're okay. She's impressed by the show you're putting up. She's scared by the despair she can feel from you.

_Help me_ , you beg her. _I can't do this._

_I'm not supposed to_ , she says, holding back.

_I don't care_ , you say. _Help me, you have to help me, otherwise this isn't going to work. At all._

She doesn't respond, but after a few moments, her mind closes around yours. And even though she's slowly but gradually taking over for you, taking control, you feel like there's a certain gentleness to her presence. She's holding your mind, cradling it as if it's fragile, and you can feel her love seeping through you.

It calms you down a little bit.

At the same time, you feel her fear. Aranea is scared of dying.

You are suddenly overwhelmed by the utter pointlessness of what you're about to do. It should be so simple. You love her, she loves you; she doesn't want to die, you don't want to kill.

And the only reason why you're in this situation now is an oracle that once existed a hundred sweeps ago.

_Good_ , Mindfang whispers in your mind. _Hold on to the anger._

You've reached the fighting pit. There will be a judge to determine the outcome of the duel and to ensure fairness; she's another civilian, a rustblood, likely to be sympathetic to your cause. You probe her mind (which isn't something you've done much before, and it makes you uncomfortable) to make sure Mindfang hasn't twisted her in some way. She hasn't.

You find yourself almost wishing she had, because it would have meant you could delay the fight. As it is, Colvea leads you away, checks your armour and hands you your weapon.

A jousting lance, only deadlier. It's painted yellow and brown.

As is customary for duels, you both get to choose your own weapon and means of fighting. You select a hoofbeast to carry you. Mindfang is still stronger and better than you, but you have some advantages.

Colvea is talking to you, but you barely hear a single word. She's telling you about fighting styles, about disabling Mindfang, about protecting yourself. About tactics and saving your strength and how you shouldn't underestimate her.

Your ears are ringing and your vision goes fuzzy and before you realise what's happening, you're outside the tent (luckily, out of sight of any troll but Colvea), heaving violently. The stench of your own sick makes you feel worse. Your eyes are watering. Colvea sits you down and pulls you towards her.

"I can't do it," you whisper.

"You can, Rufioh," Colvea says gently. "And you will. Look at me."

You do as you're told. She hands you a cloth and you wipe your eyes and then your mouth.

"You've fought her before, you told me about that," Colvea says gravely. "This is no different. You've fought me, and you've fought the others, hell, you've even fought subjugglators."

"Never to the death," you say, your voice failing.

"This isn't any different," Colvea says. "Just think of it as another sparring exercise. It's just training, Rufioh, and it'll be over in a few minutes. It's just training."

"Just training," you echo. Maybe, maybe if you think that, you can survive this until Mindfang takes control of you again.

"Yes, exactly," Colvea says. "And you can do this."

You nod and try to get up. You find that you can stand, even though you still feel weak.

"Drink something," Colvea says. "And don't think, for god's sakes don't think about it too much. It's okay, Ruf, it's all going to be okay."

She hugs you. You try to block out all thoughts, every thought you've ever had, and mount your hoofbeast.

"Good luck," Colvea says, and then you're out.

Aranea is at the other end of the pit. Her sword is glittering in the moonlight. She bares her teeth in a grin, arrogant, cold. Confident.

_Don't think._

"Marquise," you say, inclining your head.

"Summoner," she replies, her voice louder than yours.

The judge raises her hand.

"This shall be a fair fight," she says. "You are not to get any outside help whatsoever. You are not to mind control each other in any way. You will use your bodies and your weapons to fight to the death, and I will declare the fight to be over once one of you has died."

Aranea laughs and throws back her hair. She's also wearing armour, you suddenly see.

_It's just training, only a sparring exercise._ You hold on to that thought tightly as you examine her armour. It looks light and strong, but probably wouldn't last against a deadlier weapon. Like the lance you're holding.

Probably.

"Let the duel begin," the judge says, dropping her hand. You nudge your hoofbeast into a canter and ready your lance. Aranea's smile drops; she raises her sword.

You wonder, vaguely, if you would mind dying. You've been so preoccupied with the reality of her imminent death that you completely forgot the possibility of you dying tonight as well.

_You're not going to die_ , Pyralspite says.

With a clash, your lance meets Aranea's sword and is deflected. You pull back, retain your balance, and focus on your adversary. She's approaching; you make your hoofbeast step back, then turn it around in a circle and ride towards her again.

She deflects your lance again, but it's closer this time. You can see a visible dent in her armour near her shoulder, and though she doesn't appear to be in pain, you know she's probably just acting.

_A training exercise._

You turn around and ride at her again. She waits a little longer, steps out of the way and slashes at you; your reins are cut, your hoofbeast rears and throws you and you can feel her sword slicing a deep cut along your face from your cheek to your eyebrow, nearly missing your eye.

You stumble up, pick up your lance and quickly tell your hoofbeast to go, go, run, because if it's not gone by the time Aranea gets to you, she will kill it. It follows your command, neighing and bucking until one of the Cavalreapers catches it. You won't have the chance to ride again.

The cut doesn't hurt too much, but you're bleeding pretty badly. You wipe the blood out of your eye and watch her as she comes closer.

"First blood has been spilled," Aranea calls to you. "One-zero to me, I'd say. You wanna take some time and get that stitched up?"

She's mocking you. You grit your teeth and clutch your lance harder. As she gets close enough to hurt you, you spread your wings and take off, out of her reach.

Aranea rolls her eyes. You stay low, ready your lance and fly towards her. As your feet touch the ground, her sword deflects your lance, but you're on the ground now; you can react faster and turn your lance on her once more.

You know you'll have to disarm her, so you attack again, focussing on her sword hand. She dodges, and dodges your next attack too, but the third time, you hit her robotic arm, dent it, and she drops her sword and curses audibly. As far as you can tell, she has lost at least some control over her arm.

You know she can fight just as well with her other arm, so now may be your only chance.

And suddenly, the thought that this is only a training exercise doesn't work anymore. You start to panic again, hesitate, are close to withdrawing and giving up altogether.

She notices.

_If you don't do this, you'll never do anything in your life again_ , she says into your head.

You grip your lance.

_Kill me._

_Make me_ , you say.

_I can't. Kill me. Kill me._

She starts reaching for her sword, and you know if you wait another millisecond, your chance will be lost. You propel yourself forward with your wings and your legs and you don't want to, you can't, you can't, you can't.

She's your matesprit.

_KILL ME._

You grit your teeth and run your lance through... the place where she was a second ago.

She dodges you, jumps out of the way. You attack again without hesitation because she's closer to her sword now; she dances away from your lance.

_STOP PLAYING. KILL ME. KILL ME._

It's difficult to think around her loud, booming mind voice. You attack, slightly disoriented. Your lance meets flesh and blue blood is spilled. Aranea stops moving, hands over the gaping would in her side.

The words in your head taste of pain now, but are no weaker for it. _KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME._

You don't want to hurt her.

_KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME KILL ME -_

This time, your lance goes straight through her heart. You're not sure what happens. You draw back your weapon. She falls. You can hear screams and cheers from your audience.

_No_ , you think, _no, no, no -_

You're by yourself in your mind and you fall to your knees beside her, reaching for her with your hands and your mind. Her presence flickers, painfully, barely there.

Dying.

She reaches out with her mind and with the very last of her strength, her voice burns straight through you, reaching the dragon circling overhead.

_DO NOT LET THEM SEE HIM GRIEVE._

And then, softly, only meant for you.

_I love you._

You can feel memories, her memories, and her feelings and her love for you, and how everything, everything she did in her last months was only to help you, and a pained but roaring triumph that all her plans have worked -

And then suddenly, nothing.

"Aranea," you whisper.

You barely notice Pyralspite descend as the judge declares the duel to be over.

Aranea looks peaceful. She looks like she could be sleeping but for the gaping wound in her chest.

_I killed her_ , you think numbly. Your mind reaches for her again, for the spark of life that was so familiar to you by now. You find nothing. You try again.

"Aranea," you say again. Dust rises around you, stirred up by the landing dragon. You vaguely register screams and the clamour of a thousand running feet.

She loved you.

You reach out, run your fingers along her horns, reach for her with your mind again.

You start to cry.

 

 


	18. Interlude

 

 

"Your Condescension," the servant says. The Empress nods at him to continue.

"The Marquise was defeated by the Summoner in the duel, only a few hours past."

"Marquise," the Empress says. It rings a bell somewhere.

"Spinneret Mindfang, your Condescension."

Right. The ex-pirate who surprisingly joined the right side when it came to fighting this fudgeblooded revolutionary.

"She's dead," the servant adds, pointlessly.

Only a few days ago, the Empress heard of the Summoner's challenge. She was convinced that Mindfang would defeat him with ease. She'd planned a ceremony to honour the pirate publicly.

Maybe she still could.

"And the Summoner?" she asks.

The servant swallows. "Alive and well, as far as my sources know," he says. "He got away with a minor injury. Already the news of his victory are spreading. More people are joining his cause every second."

This was to be expected, the Empress thinks, and one of the reasons why it's so hard to believe that Mindfang is dead.

It's the only thing she can do, even though she's sort of in the middle of conquering another civilisation. It will have to wait.

"Let our Helmsman know," she tells the servant. "We're turning around. I'm needed on the homeworld."

 

 


	19. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because both the last chapter and this one are rather short, have the second update in three days. (Whoa!)  
> The overall story has breached 25 chapters and 65k words and I'm not exactly sure how much is still to come. My hopes to finish it before the semester starts (ie in the next week and a half) are slowly being diminished. But they aren't completely gone yet.  
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter.

 

 

She finds him as she expected, bent over his matesprit's corpse, blue blood and brown tears mixing.

Ugly.

He's not alone, but the only ones who are with him are the dragon and his rustblood moirail. The dragon notices her first, and it takes off, screeching.

She rolls her eyes. She's still young, she hasn't earned that kind of superstition yet.

The Summoner looks up at her. She's standing closer to him than she probably ought, but she wants to take a look at this fabled troll.

"You," he says, his voice hollow.

Wait.

"You've seen me before?" she says. "That's not in my schedule. Need to update that."

"Only for like a second," he says. "Ages ago." He looks down at the body in his arms, tears falling down.

"Hmmm. When?" It's not her task to stay and ask questions, to converse with the people she's meant to scare the living hell out of. But this is her last, most important and most interesting mission for the night. She wants to get to know this Summoner who she's heard so much about.

But instead of him, his moirail speaks.

"After his first slave revolt," she says. "Barely three months ago."

"Okay," the Handmaid says. "I'll add that to the list, shall I?"

The Summoner looks up at her.

"Who are you?" he says, his voice cold.

She shrugs. "Thought you knew, after your reaction earlier," she says. "It doesn't really matter what you call me. Demoness, Handmaid, whatever. May I?" Without waiting for an answer, she sits down cross legged, not caring that her bright green dress will get dirty. "My actual name is Damara," she adds.

"Damara," the Summoner repeats.

"And you are? Sorry, I only know you by title," she says.

The Summoner doesn't smile. "Rufioh," he says. "And this is Colvea."

"Why are you here, Damara?" Colvea asks.

The Handmaid grins. "Should I give you the one my boss thinks is the actual reason, or the actual actual reason?"

"Both." The Summoner's voice is coarse.

Damara shrugs. "Very well," she says. "I'm here to tell you - in an ominous and frightening way, of course, preferably so you'll run away screaming or something - that your Empress is on her way." She lowers her voice, turns up the glittering aura and glares at him.

"She's coming, Summoner," she says. "You best be ready."

Rufioh actually looks impressed. At least until Damara turns down the special effects and grins at him. "Not bad, huh? That's that done. The reason why I'm still here is because I was curious about you. You see - my former boss liked to tell stories. And he told me about you. Apparently, we knew each other, in some different alternative dimension or something, I don't really get it, and he couldn't be bothered to explain things like that properly. But we were matesprits, you and I."

She hesitates, then adds, "For a time."

Rufioh's eyes are filling with tears again.

"How dare you tell me you and I were matesprits," he says, his voice filled with carefully controlled rage. "I don't care what happened in some alternate dimension - how dare you say something like that with... with the body of..."

He starts to sob, clutching the Marquise's body. Colvea has a hand on his back.

The Handmaid rolls her eyes.

"You asked me a question," she says. "All I did was answer it. But cool, if you don't want me to stay and chat, I'll be on my way then."

"Wait," Colvea says.

"No," Damara says. "I don't answer to you. Him, maybe, but I've already stayed far longer than I should. Best to let him grieve. He won't have much time to, bless him."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Colvea demands.

The Handmaid shrugs. "I know what'll happen," she simply says. "I've got one more meeting with him scheduled. In your future as well as mine."

She rises, summons her turntables and prepares to leave.

"Wait," Rufioh says.

Damara turns her tables but doesn't go.

"Yes?"

"If you know everything that's going to happen," he says, "can you tell me that it's going to be worth it? Can you tell me it'll be all right?"

She's stunned for a moment, but then leaves her turntables be and steps towards him. Colvea hisses at her, but doesn't attack.

"Rufioh," Damara says very, very gently. "Of course I can't. This is Alternia. No stories here have happy endings. And a story you'll be, Summoner. A story you'll be."

His big brown eyes look so lost when they find hers. He's still crying, or crying again.

"But if it makes you feel better," she says. She reaches out, touches his cheek with her hand. He shies away from the heat of her touch, hotter even than normal rustbloods because of the curse she carries.

"Everything will be all right."

It's a lie she doesn't expect him to believe.

"Until the next time, Rufioh," she says sadly.

Her boss will know she's been disobedient. If she's lucky, she will be allowed to remember what his skin felt like underneath her fingertips.

She's had worse beatings than the one she can look forward to when she gets home.

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

"Let me see your wound."

"No."

"Rufioh," Colvea says impatiently, "stop being a wriggler and let me have a look at your wound."

Your hands are covered in cobalt blood. She has stopped bleeding a while ago. Her head is resting in your lap.

She always felt cold to you, but never as icy as she is now.

"I don't care," you say, almost surprised that the words actually make it out of your mouth.

You feel a hand on your chin and unwillingly raise your head to look at Colvea. She lets her eyes wander over the cut on your face. As far as you can tell, it's already stopped bleeding.

"You should get stitches for that," she says gently. "And while we're at it - we need to go back to the camp. Everyone will be waiting for you."

You tighten your hands around Aranea's body.

"No," you simply say.

"You can't stay here forever."

You look at her and hiss. Colvea winces, but doesn't back down. You don't know what you're doing until you've found her mind with yours, _pushing_. She takes in a sharp breath and jerks away, and the noise reminds you that you... shouldn't do that.

"Sorry," you whisper.

Colvea is scowling. "Come _on_ ," she says coldly. "We don't have much time."

You stay put.

"This is the only chance I'll have to grieve her," you say stubbornly.

"You've been grieving her for weeks and she wasn't even dead," Colvea counters. "Now come on."

You reluctantly let go of Mindfang's body; she slips to the ground. As she was your adversary, you're expected to just leave her, to let her body decay in the burning sun, to allow animals to feed on her remains.

"Can we - burn her body?" you ask softly.

Colvea sighs. "We don't have time to build a funeral pyre," she says.

"I can get animals to bring us wood. It doesn't have to be big. I just - I just don't want to leave her like this."

Colvea deliberates for a moment, then nods. "Quickly, then. I'll help."

You can barely think, barely feel past the overwhelming grief, but you still reach out, find animals, command them to bring you wood. A few minutes later, you have enough to build a small pyre. You cry as you put it together with Colvea and as you take Mindfang's body and lay it down gently on the wood.

You touch her face, her horns, reach for her with your mind again. You know it's no use. You've tried a million times. She's gone.

"I'm sorry, Aranea," you breathe.

_You shouldn't apologise_ , Pyralspite whispers in your mind. _She made you do it._

Suddenly, you're angry again. _Can you at least let me grieve without telling me how to feel?_ you snap at your lusus. _She's dead now, you can stop hating her, okay? You should be here and pay your respects._

_No respects to pay_ , Pyralspite says. _But okay, I'll come. Is - she gone?_

You know she doesn't mean Mindfang.

_Yeah_ , you say, _she's not even that dangerous. She was... nice._

Pyralspite growls mentally, but doesn't disagree. You can tell she's on her way now.

It's difficult to light the fire without oil, but after a while, you manage anyway. Pyralspite arrives minutes later, coming down behind you and touching your shoulder gently. You're still angry with her, but your reaction is instinctive - you turn around and bury your face in the scales at her neck, and she curls her neck and head around you, holding you against her as you sob.

She pushes her bitter thoughts aside and doesn't allow you to feel anything except her love for you, so different from Mindfang's but no less strong. It helps a little.

You turn around eventually and watch the fire burn while leaning against Pyralspite. After a few seconds, Colvea joins you, taking your hand.

She doesn't let you watch the pyre burn down completely. As soon as it's burning high and bright, she tugs you away.

_Are you walking to the camp?_ Pyralspite asks.

_Yeah_ , you say.

_Okay. I'll meet you there_. And with that, she's off.

You throw one last look at the burning pyre. You'll never see Mindfang again, never hold her or kiss her again. All you have of her now are your memories.

Colvea links arms with you and almost pulls you away, towards the camp.

 

 

You let yourself be celebrated, put on a smile, force yourself to grin smugly and brag a little about your victory. Maybe, if you try to think she was your enemy hard enough, you'll believe it eventually.

You still manage to get your Cavalreapers to move the camp. Your numbers have been growing exponentially since the fight, so you decide it's best to split up the camp. You have a few people you trust, people who you believe are able to inspire people and to represent your views adequately. You make each of them the leader of a smaller faction of Cavalreapers and tell them to spread out and set up their camps elsewhere. You appoint ambassadors and messengers to make sure communication will happen between the different camps, and you make plans to train more people in rudimentary animal communication.

But as soon as you can get away, you do, because every second that you have to act like you didn't care about Mindfang at all, like the revolution is the only important thing in your life, hurts you more than you can say. So you flee as soon as you're able to and don't even take Pyralspite with you.

Your destination is Meulin's cave.

You haven't seen Meulin in such a long time that you're almost worried she might be dead, but she's there, alive and well, and greets you with a hug.

"It's good to see you, Rufioh," she says brightly. "I've been wondering how you are. You must have been incredibly busy."

"Yeah, that I was. And am." You sit down, sigh and bury your face in your hands.

Meulin rubs your back.

"Mindfang?" she asks tentatively.

"I killed her, Meulin," you whisper. "She was my matesprit, and I killed her."

She hugs you again and you relax into her embrace. The tears come again, unbidden, but you let them flow unhindered because for days, you didn't allow yourself to grieve at all.

"I'm so sorry, Rufioh," Meulin says.

You wipe away your tears, but more follow so quickly that it's no use at all.

"I loved her so much," you sob. "Even in the very end, especially in the end - and I had to kill her anyway and I didn't think I could but I did..."

Meulin rubs your back and holds you. You're pretty sure you've never cried this much in your life. All the pain you've ever felt, all the pain you mentally prepared for - this is so much worse than anything you thought could happen.

It takes you so long to calm down that the sun is already casting its first rays over the horizon. Pyralspite has asked you more than once if she should come over, if you need her to protect you against the sun when you go back to the camp, if you plan to come back to the camp now at all. You've not found yourself capable of answering her.

But Meulin seems to think you're staying, so you see no reason to object. She gives you a blanket and tucks you in almost motheringly. She kisses your forehead before she curls up on the other side of the cave.

"It's going to be okay, Rufioh," she says. "I mean - you'll never forget the pain, but you'll learn to live with it. You have a purpose in this life and she's helped you achieve it greatly. I know that doesn't make the grief any better. But all you can do now is remember her and do everything you can to make the best of the gift she gave you."

You know Meulin is right, and you know she's been where you are, but right now it feels like nothing is ever going to be okay again.

 

 

In the evening, your head is a little clearer. You manage to think about things beside your own grief and look around. The walls of Meulin's cave are now completely covered in writing. You read the bits you don't know yet while she's out hunting for breakfast, and when she comes back, you smile at her.

"You've finished," you say.

She smiles back. "My life's work, yeah," she says. "I - I thought about just finding those poisonous berries you told me about, remember the first time you came here? I just wanted to end it, because despite my best efforts, my body just isn't ready to give up yet. But I waited for you. You're the only friend I have left in this world, and I knew you'd need me again."

You don't quite know what to say.

"Those berries won't kill you," you say, a little helplessly. "They'll just make you feel really, really ill for a few days, but you won't die."

Meulin grimaces. "Shame," she says.

"There are a few plants that will actually kill you if you eat them," you add.

"Can you show me?"

You almost expected her to say that. You half-smile.

"Only if you do something for me in return," you say.

"What could I possibly do for you?" Meulin asks, sceptically.

You smile at her fully. "Leave this cave with me," you say. "You can come back afterwards if you want, but there's someone I want you to meet. He doesn't live too far from here."

 

 

You don't tell Meulin who you're leading her to because you're pretty sure if she knew, she'd turn around at once. Instead, you busy yourself by pointing out various deadly plants to her, knowing full well that she intends to put that information to use sooner or later.

Hopefully later rather than sooner, you think.

"I wouldn't recommend that one," you say. "I've seen people eat it by accident and it's not pretty. You throw up blood for three nights and you can't sleep and you're in terrible pain before it ends, and as far as I know, there's no cure. The leaves from this plant -" You point at another one - "they paralyze you and you're completely helpless, but conscious at the same time. I know healers use it for surgery sometimes in small doses, because the paralysis wears off after a while, but if you take enough of it you'll die of thirst before that happens. Again, not too pleasant, I can imagine."

Meulin grins. "You would've made a good healer yourself," she says. "You know all of this stuff and you're not scared or freaked out by it."

You shrug. You can't imagine being a healer - there are far too many troll lives on your consciousness for that.

"Maybe I should have joined the Laughsassins instead of the Cavalreapers," you joke. "I can kill someone in a hundred different ways without even touching them."

"I'm sure they would value your expertise," Meulin agrees, grinning.

You roll your eyes, keep walking and then point at another plant. "This is the one I'd recommend, really," you say. "It's far gentler than the others. The drawback is that you need to take a shitload of the berries. You can spread it out over a few days, though, the effects are pretty much irreversible. You'll get hallucinations and they might be a bit unpleasant. I know people who take those berries on a regular basis to get high, but eventually, they either stop doing it or they die. It'll numb your fingers and toes and eventually your whole body until your heart stops. If you take enough of them, they'll knock you unconscious first, so you'll fall asleep and... never wake up."

Meulin looks thoughtful.

"It doesn't sound like a bad way to go," she says.

"Please don't go too soon, though," you say, slightly uneasy.

Meulin smiles. "I'll do my best," she says. "How many of those berries will I need?"

You cup your hands together and frown. "If you fill this up with berries... I'd say, probably ten times as many. Like I said, you need a lot. They grow all sweep round, though, so you can collect them and dry them, it won't decrease their effectivity."

You stop for a second, then add, "I can't believe I'm seriously telling you how to kill yourself."

Meulin smiles wryly. "It's appreciated," she says.

"In a way, it means I'll kill you, too," you say sadly.

Meulin scoffs. "Don't be silly. You're not killing me. I would have managed that myself as well, somehow. You're just helping me suffer less. And it's the best gift you could give me, seriously."

Again, you don't know what to say.

"So," Meulin says, "who's this mystery person you're taking me to? I'm assuming you have a reason for not telling me, but he must be someone special."

You smile. You can already see the mountain range where Horuss lives, so you believe it's safe to tell her.

"An old friend of yours," you say.

Meulin frowns. "Don't be silly, I don't have old friends. I don't have any friends except you. Everyone I've ever known is dead, remember?"

"Not everyone," you say, and refuse to tell her more until you've reached the entrance of the cave. You silently thank Mindfang for showing you, because the illusion is just as good as the first time you came here.

Meulin seems impressed. "This is a really good hiding place," she says.

You tell her with a gesture to stay back and hesitantly enter the cave.

"Horuss?" you ask.

A small flame comes to life with a hiss, and you can see his bulky figure outlined against the wall. "Rufioh," he says, smiling. "What a lovely surprise. Come in, come in."

"I brought a friend," you say. "Can she come in as well?"

He looks at you for a moment, then his face lights up. He grins like a giddy teenager and nods at you. You step outside, take Meulin's arm and lead her into the cave.

She follows you, then looks at him. For a few moments, she simply stares, then looks back at you.

"An old friend, huh?" Her voice is shaking.

Horuss can't seem to take his eyes off her.

"It's you," he whispers. "It's really you, he didn't lie, it's really you."

Meulin grits her teeth, then leans in to you, hiding her face in your shoulder. You put your arms around her.

"I don't - I don't want anything to do with him," she says, her words muffled.

Horuss looks crestfallen at her words.

"Meulin, he saved your life."

When she looks up at you, her eyes are glittering with tears. She doesn't say anything to you, but turns around and glares at Horuss.

"Damn you for saving my life," she hisses. "I wanted to die, do you hear me? I wanted to die."

Horuss has risen, and he approaches you and Meulin cautiously.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "Sorry - for your loss and sorry for keeping you alive -"

She wipes away her tears; her expression softens.

"Why did you do it?" she asks. "I've been wondering for decades."

He laughs. "Me too," he says. "I - I don't really know, I certainly can't explain it. I saw you and I felt something and I knew I couldn't do it."

"You... felt something?" Meulin raises her eyebrows, almost mocking. Horuss ignores her.

"I looked for you after I was dismissed," he says, "but I couldn't find you."

"It's for the best, probably," Meulin says. "I would have killed you."

Horuss looks at her for a long moment.

"I'm sorry," he then says again.

"You felt something," Meulin repeats softly. "... Flushed?"

Horuss shakes his head immediately.

"Pale," he says.

Meulin hesitates, then frees herself from your arms and steps towards him. You let her, but remain on guard.

But instead of attacking him, Meulin holds out her arms to him and hugs Horuss. Horuss lets out a breath that you can almost taste the relief in and carefully puts his arms around her.

When they break apart, it's Horuss who has tears in his eyes.

"I don't even know your name," he says hoarsely.

She smiles. "It's Meulin," she says. "What's your name?"

"Horuss," he says softly.

Meulin smiles.

"It's an honour to finally meet you, Horuss," she says.

 

 

After that, you're surprised when Meulin tells you she wants to leave after only a little while.

She smiles when she notices, and says, "I still have some things in my old cave, I just want to get them. I'm moving here."

That surprises you even more.

"Do you want me to come with you?" you ask. She nods.

Just before you're about to leave, Horuss holds you back.

"Rufioh," he says. "I - there's really no sensitive way to ask this, I suppose. Mindfang is dead, isn't she?"

You are brutally reminded of your pain, which you managed to push aside for a while. You swallow heavily.

"Yes," you say.

Horuss sighs and closes his eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he says softly. "She was your matesprit, wasn't she."

You nod, gritting your teeth.

"She saved my life and protected me," Horuss says. "She was my friend, and I admired her. But I can only imagine the pain you're feeling. Who killed her?"

You suck in a sharp breath.

"You don't know?" you ask coarsely.

He shoots you a bewildered look and shakes his head. "She - I assumed she knew, because of the oracle, but she never told me."

You can't stop the tears. Meulin has a hand on your back. She answers the question for you.

"He did," she says.

Your vision is blurred by tears, so you can't see what Horuss is doing, but you can hear the sudden clashing of what you assume are robot parts.

"No," Horuss says. "He killed - Rufioh - you dare to enter my cave -"

Meulin vanishes from your side, and when you blink and your vision clears, she's holding him, holding him back from you.

"He had to," she says gently. "He didn't have a choice, she forced him to. It's not his fault, Horuss."

You try to hold back your sobs.

"No, he's right," you say, "he's right to be angry, I deserve it... I killed her."

"Shut _up_ , Rufioh," Meulin says sharply. "It wasn't your fault."

Horuss is breathing heavily.

"I swore an oath to myself," he says, "to avenge her death when the time came. I felt I owed her that much, at least. But - but this is so like her. I can't very well avenge her if this is exactly what she wanted."

"He loved her," Meulin says. "If it had been up to him, none of this would have happened." She leaves him and takes you into her arms again.

"Rufioh, hey," she says gently. "Hey. You were holding up so well."

You close your eyes, tears running down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Rufioh," Horuss says. "Clearly, this has been even harder on you than I could ever have guessed. I'll never speak of it again."

You're grateful, though you can't tell him so through the sobs rocking your body again.

"Come on, Ruf, let's go," Meulin says. "I'll be back, Horuss."

He nods and she leads you out of the cave.

When your sobs die down a little, she says, "You know, it's absolutely no use blaming yourself. You know there was no other way. Beating yourself up about it isn't going to accomplish anything."

You say nothing.

"You have to focus on your mission," she continues. "Your revolution."

"I am," you say, a bit harsher than you intended. "I know that she died giving me this huge opportunity, and I'm not about to let it go to waste. I've pushed away my feelings for days, none of my followers know anything's up, and none of them will ever know. But that doesn't mean - I miss her so much, Meulin. I wanted her with me, at my side, and at the end of the day it's me who killed her, nobody else. And I know she pushed me, she forced me, I know I didn't technically have a choice, but that won't stop me from feeling guilty about it for the rest of my days."

It's her turn to keep silent at that.

"I have to say," you say after a few minutes, "I'm a bit surprised at you moving in with Horuss. I mean, you've only known him for like an hour."

She looks at you from the side and smiles.

"Maybe, but he's lonely, and I'm lonely, and really, there's no one better to spend old age with than your moirail," she says.

Almost against your will, you smile. "He's your moirail already?"

"He's been my moirail since the moment he first laid eyes on me," Meulin says earnestly. "I just didn't know it until now."

And then, a little quieter, she adds, "Thanks for bringing me to him. We need each other, more than either of us ever knew. And it's given me a reason to live a little longer."

 

 

You help her carry her few things over to Horuss's cave, but don't linger with them for too long. You need to get back to the Cavalreapers, you're more needed than ever.

But first, you need to make a quick stop somewhere else.

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING IN AGES.  
> See, there was a reason why I wanted this finished before the semester started. That didn't happen, and for the past three weeks I've been so busy that I've barely managed to eat properly much less write my fanfiction. So there will be pauses between updates. Long pauses. Hopefully not too long. I may get done by Christmas. Optimistically.  
> Have a chapter, as an apology of sorts, but don't expect me to update soon. Again I'm really sorry.

 

 

The door to her hive is unlocked. You step inside and have to hold your breath so you don't break down from the memories assaulting you.

The time you slept here, in the entrance hall, with Pyralspite. She kissed you for the first time here. You greeted her here countless times.

For a moment, you almost expect her to come down the stairs with a grin on her lips and joy in her eyes. She would rush towards you, throw her arms around you and kiss you, and you'd tell her you missed her, you missed her so much -

Oh, what you'd give to hold her, to kiss her, just one last time.

You make your way up the stairs. You don't really know why you're here. You felt you needed to come for some reason.

The hive faintly smells of her, but the scent is already dissipating. You enter her block, let your eyes wander over her book case. You sit on the sofa, the sofa that holds so many sweet memories.

There's a small scroll of parchment wedged between the sofa and the wall. You take it out.

_My dearest Rufioh,_

_There is very little to say that I haven't said already. I think at this point all I can tell you is that I love you, and I am so very, very sorry. I know this won't make anything right. I hope you will forgive me one day._

_Do you remem8er the necklace you found in my kitchen, the first time you came to visit me here? It's still in the same place. I want you to have it, to remem8er me 8y._

_I love you always. I wish I could 8e at your side for as long as you'll live. I'm so sorry to leave you like this. You deserve 8etter than me._

_Aranea._

 

 

When you get back to the Cavalreapers, you're wearing the necklace. You burned her message. You don't want to think about Aranea anymore; you can't afford to let her distract you from the things you have to do.

Colvea is not impressed with your absence.

"Where were you?" she asks you seconds after you land. "You can't afford to be gone for whole nights anymore. God knows how they know it but word has gotten out that the Condesce is on her way back here. Everyone wants to talk to you. Also -" She pulls out a piece of parchment.

"These are the reports I've gotten from slave revolts in the area," she says. "Ninety-three highbloods were killed, almost twenty more were wounded, and apparently, thirty lowbloods lost their lives as well. There are protests in the streets and in the cities. Fourteen highbloods dead in Sheema, twenty-three in Volaine, fifty-two in Cenara, no reports of dead lowbloods. I've lost count of how many people have joined us since your fight. People everywhere are rising up and giving their lives for you, Rufioh."

You nod.

_It's the greatest gift she could have given you_ , Pyralspite comments. You don't disagree.

"It's only going to get bigger and bigger," you say softly.

"And more dangerous. The bounty on your head has increased a hundredfold. They say the Grand Highblood has sent out a thousand of his people to look for you and bring you to him, dead or alive."

You frown.

"Do we know when the Empress will be here?" you ask.

Colvea grimaces. "No more than a week from now," she says, "but it could be less."

"Okay. We need a plan." You reach out to Pyralspite and Gryff, telling them you'll need their advice.

"What do you have in mind?" Colvea asks.

"We have to get her as soon as she gets here," you say, "so I'll get animals to fly up and tell me as soon as she comes into sight. Gryff, Pyralspite, other lusi, soarbeasts, songbeasts. Once she's here, we'll capture her and bring her here."

"How?" Colvea asks.

"I'm still working on the details," you admit.

"Okay." Colvea half-smiles. "So, what will you do with her when she's here?"

"Execute her, of course. Why?"

Colvea seems at a loss for words for a moment.

"Okay," she then repeats flatly.

You raise your eyebrows. "What?"

"Nothing," she says. "Of course it's best to kill her. She has a whole army at her back."

"I'll try to control her lusus," you say. "Make contact with her, find out how to kill her too. I can't risk the possibility of the Vast Glub happening."

Colvea nods, her eyes wide. "Let's hope you're successful," she says softly.

You are sobered a little by her words. Your plan is ambitious. But there has to be a way it'll work.

Besides, you've fought subjugglators and won. You've won over a great purple-blooded griffin lusus to your side. Your own lusus is a dragon. From what you've heard, close to a million of lowbloods are now following you or are expressing that they are in favour of your cause.

It'll get more.

"We can do it," you say. "I'm sure of it."

 

 

Her Imperious Condescension, Empress of Alternia, arrives a lot sooner than anyone expected her to - the next night, in fact.

Your plan is far from finished, and even though you sent word to the other factions of Cavalreapers that you would need them and probably soon, you know they will probably not get to you in time. Your own faction is just over five thousand soldiers strong. You're sure you'll get many civilians to join your cause, but many of them will die.

You'd hoped it wouldn't come to this.

Gryff alerts you to the approach of the Condesce's flagship. Moments later, Pyralspite confirms it.

You send out messengers, gather the soldiers. Colvea helps you into your armour again; it's still stained blue. You try not to think about it as she hands you your weapon. You're going to need it. You find that you don't mind the prospect of killing people.

_Pyralspite_ , you reach out as soon as you're ready.

_Yes?_

_I know we haven't discussed this in much detail_ , you say. _But I'm running out of options here. I'm counting on you and Gryff - fly ahead, wreak havoc on the Condesce's ship, and if you can, try to capture her. Don't kill her, I need her alive._

_Understood_ , she says. Quickly, you relay the same message to Gryff, and you watch from his mind as they speed off together towards the fuchsia-coloured spaceship.

Meanwhile, on the ground, your soldiers are gathering around you. As you expected, plenty of civilians come, presumably out of curiosity when they see the crowd. Many of them stay. You advise your soldiers to give any spare weapons to them. The port where the spaceship will land is not far, but it will still take a while to get there; you march as soon as everyone is ready.

And for a few minutes, it seems as though everything will be fine; the trolls on the Condesce's ship are panicking at the two huge lususes attacking them, and with every step, you and your army get closer to the port.

It's Gryff who warns you.

_Highbloods coming_ , he simply says, _lots of them._

Seconds later, they're upon you. You reach for Gryff, asking him to come back here and help you. Other animals answer your summon as well. The highbloods fight and kill, and you can tell that most of them are civilians as well; only a few of them are subjugglators.

You had no idea that the highbloods were also converting civilians to their side; you almost suspect it's Mindfang's doing, even though probably unintentionally so.

You still feel little remorse as you kill them. They chose the wrong side.

And then, you feel a panicked outcry from Pyralspite.

_Rufioh -_

With it comes an image of highbloods running and running, and amidst them, a single troll standing up to her - tall, clad in green, surrounded by a glittering, multicoloured aura.

Before you have time to process it properly, there's a pain so sudden and intense that you cry out despite being unhurt.

_PYRALSPITE!_

And the sudden, painless absence of her presence from your mind hurts more than any wounds ever could.

_PYRALSPITE!_ You reach, grasp for her, project your mental shout, stronger than you ever have. You wait for an answer, desperate, silently pleading -

You feel a hand on your arm, dragging you aside, away from the fighting.

"Rufioh," Colvea says, breathing hard. She's covered in blood - none of which is her own.

"Ruf, I _heard_ that. As has every other lowblood in the radius of five miles, probably. Something's gone wrong, hasn't it?"

"I don't know," you say. "I don't know - I need to look for her, I -"

You look at Colvea again, and something else crosses your mind.

"Colvea, you need to go," you say. "This is - this is bad, and it's going all sorts of wrong, and you need to go - I'll look for Pyralspite and I might get imprisoned or killed and - you have to survive, you're the only one who could lead this on - there's a place you can hide -"

You reach out for her, press your hands against the side of her face, fingertips brushing against her horns. You've never done this before.

"What are you doing?" she breathes.

"Giving you a memory, you won't find it without it -"

You close your eyes and push, push, and Colvea doesn't really know what she's doing but after a few moments she lets you in, and you somehow manage to get the memory of Horuss's cave and leave it in her mind.

She looks at you, bewildered, when you open your eyes again.

"Okay," she whispers. "Okay, I got it - Ruf - be safe - don't die, okay?"

She kisses your cheek and takes off, running from the fight, to safety.

You don't hesitate a second and take off. Spears and arrows fly after you, but you manage to avoid them until you're high enough that they can't reach you.

_Gryff, I need you, where are you?_

Gryff is there, but he doesn't reply. He, too, heard your shout for Pyralspite. You can only feel his fear, getting weaker as he flies - away from you, away from the fighting.

_Coward!_ you scream after him, tears gathering in your eyes. It's no use. Alone, you ascend towards the fuchsia ship.

You want more than anything to look for Pyralspite at once, but as the Condesce's ship comes into view, you realise you have a duty to the people, and that that duty is more important than your lusus.

As you ascend, the decks are empty of all trolls but one. You saw her through Pyralspite's mind; apparently, even though no lusi are attacking the highbloods anymore, her presence is enough to keep them away.

You speed towards her, ignoring the twinge of fear her sight puts into your heart. You've met her. She was nice.

She looks older.

"Damara," you shout as you land in front of her. "What did you do to my lusus?"

Her eyes meet yours. She's not just older, you can see; her eyes have turned cold and hard as stone. Her face is an iron mask.

"How do you know my name?" she asks instead of answering your question.

You stare at her.

"You told me," you say. "We met, only a few days ago, don't you remember -"

Her expression doesn't change.

"That never happened," she says. "Goodbye, Summoner."

And the next moment, she's gone without a trace. You're only left with your own horror, and barely manage to remember the purpose for which you came onto the ship.

Hardly managing to push away your panicked worry, you fold your wings away and run along the ship until you find stairs. You run down, lance readied, killing indiscriminately whenever someone steps in your way. The ship hasn't landed yet, but if you manage to get the emergency rope ladders down, your army can invade - you just have to find them first.

It takes far longer than you like, and you have to kill far more people than you would want to, but eventually, you manage to find the rope ladders and release them. As the last one falls, you fall with it, letting go of it and spreading your wings. You fear you've already lost Pyralspite - this took far too long for your liking - but you need to look for her anyway.

Behind you, the ladders hit the ground and lowbloods ascend. You should lead them, you should be with them, but you can't bring yourself to abandon your lusus.

You look and look and look, search the ground underneath the ship, and finally you can spot something white and dragon-like, lying on the ground.

_PYRALSPITE!_

You speed towards her, not caring that she might be dead, that you might be running into a trap - she's your lusus, you love her, you can't just leave her -

You fall to your knees beside her head as soon as you land. Her eyes are open and glassy. She's not looking at you.

She's alive, but injured. And she doesn't even seem to notice that you're here.

"Pyralspite," you say out loud, pleading. "Pyralspite, look at me, it's me, it's Rufioh, look at me -"

You reach out with your mind again, and now that you're close to her you realise that she's there... behind the most powerful blocks you've ever felt.

Blocks she didn't put there herself.

You push, knowing it's in vain, you try to find a way around them, push harder.

"Pyralspite," you say again. You stroke her scales, her nostrils, that area underneath her chin where she's slightly ticklish - but she doesn't respond, to none of it.

"Summoner," you hear a voice, "get away from the dragon."

You turn around to find a purpleblood facing you.

Behind him, you can make out the huge shape of what you can only assume is the Grand Highblood himself.

"What have you done to her?" you ask desperately.

"It doesn't need to concern you," the purpleblood who's not the Grand Highblood says. "Get up, and step away from the dragon."

You get up, shaking, but don't move from Pyralspite's side.

"She has a name," you spit.

The purpleblood rolls his eyes. "Don't care. Step away. I'm not saying it again." He pulls out a giant axe.

"No!" You didn't even get the chance to say goodbye - _Pyralspite -_

_Honk._

The Grand Highblood is approaching, hands in his pockets and a mad grin on his face. You stare him down, or attempt to, but for some reason, you can't hold his gaze long. When he is in front of you, he grabs you by the horns and yanks you out of the way so hard that you shout in pain.

You barely get to feel relieved that your horns didn't break, because you are now several yards away from your lusus who still doesn't even twitch as the purpleblood raises his axe.

You don't feel it. There's nothing, no pain or fear or cold as your lusus's head is separated from her body. The only thing that's worse than watching her die is not feeling her die.

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends!  
> Something miraculous happened last night. I FINISHED THIS FIC.  
> I'll be editing it and posting the remaining chapters over the next few weeks/months. I'll be aiming for a chapter a week but I'll be prone to forgetting probably. Sorry in advance.
> 
> Due to some stuff I've written I've had to change the tags a bit. Once again please make sure you're still okay with everything before reading on. Additionally I'll put trigger warnings at the start of relevant chapters. I don't even know what happened, this stuff just wrote itself in.
> 
> Anyway, I'm sure you're all on the edge of your seat wanting to know what happens next. So I won't hold you up any longer.
> 
> Trigger warning for violence in this chapter.

 

 

You wail and bury your face in your hands. You reach out, reach for every animal you can find, reach and reach until they're attacking the purpleblood, giving their lives while barely injuring him, more animals, more and more and more -

Pyralspite...

You never really reconciled with her after Mindfang's death, so sure everything would work out in your favour, you would have plenty of time afterwards to mend the relationship with your lusus -

The Grand Highblood picks up her head. Teal blood is spilling everywhere. You watch, tears running over your face, unable to look away. You barely notice the other purpleblood falling to the ground, finally defeated by the hundreds of animals.

The Grand Highblood comes towards you. Pyralspite's head is twice as big as his whole torso and he's holding it up with ease as if it only weighed as much as a feather. Her eyes stare, unseeing.

"You didn't have to kill her," you hiss at the Grand Highblood.

He just laughs, then grabs you around the waist with one hand and throws you over his shoulder. It's no use fighting him. His grip is iron, and he doesn't even seem to notice your kicks and punches. Even when you summon animals to attack him, he simply brushes them off, even the big meowbeasts and barkbeasts.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask eventually, giving up your resistance.

He doesn't answer, and you can't get anything out of him no matter what you ask, so you are left alone with your thoughts.

You know that this is probably the end - of your revolution, of your life. But you're not willing to give up just yet. If there's one thing you need to do, it's to make sure that Pyralspite and Mindfang didn't die in vain.

Your mind feels so empty without your lusus. Cold and strange. You barely feel like yourself - Pyralspite was your conscience. She kept you grounded. She challenged you and guided you.

She loved you. To be bereft of this love makes you lonelier than you've ever been.

The Grand Highblood stops, then enters a tiny shuttle. He drops Pyralspite's head, then throws you down next to it. Another highblood starts the engine; the Grand Highbloods sits down opposite you, watching you intently.

Your body hurts, but it's nothing, absolutely nothing compared to the gaping nothingness where Pyralspite was. You can't even cry.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask again, softly.

The Highblood looks at you and grins so widely that the paint starts to crack around the corners of his mouth.

"Your empress wants a word," he says.

You half expect Pyralspite to say something in your head, to comment, some smug review of how she knew this was coming, or plans on how to help you.

You almost reach out.

Your mind grasps at nothing, and the emptiness where Pyralspite used to be slams back into you, invades your mind, drives out coherent thought.

She's gone, gone so completely and terribly that it drives all air from your lungs for a few seconds.

You must have made a sound, because the Highblood looks at you with a certain cruel curiosity on his face.

"Are you going to cry?" he asks. His lips twitch, almost smiling but not quite; his eyes are wide, and he adds, as if to make sure that his question won't be misunderstood as caring, "I like tears."

You don't answer. You're close to crying, close to just giving up everything and let fate have its way with you. But there's something about the Grand Highblood that makes you want to go on.

His almost-smile widens for a second, then he looks away.

Your gaze falls to Pyralspite's severed head, sitting right next to you.

_I'm so sorry_ , you whisper to her in your mind, knowing full well that she can't hear you. _I'm so sorry, I should have taken better care of you. I should have loved you as much as you deserved. You always loved me. You didn't always agree with me and you said things I didn't want to hear. But I needed to hear them most of the time, and you loved me more than anyone ever did - and I took you for granted and I put you in danger and I never thought you -_

"Get up," the Grand Highblood says, interrupting your thoughts. "We're here."

He takes up Pyralspite's head, and you don't remember what you were going to say to her. Without moving, you look up at him. He rolls his eyes, grabs one of your horns roughly and yanks you to your feet.

"Move, motherfucker," he says, and when you don't, he pushes you forward.

As soon as you are in the open air, you summon animals to you - soarbeasts, songbeasts, lusi, anything with wings. If you can distract the Grand Highblood and get out of his reach -

His hand closes around your arm, and you scream when you feel your bones break.

"Send the animals away," the Highblood says calmly.

You don't. The pain is messing with your control over the animals, but you still beg them to stay, to keep attacking the Highblood -

He bats them away, grips your arm harder; the pain flashes white hot through your vision and you scream louder. You barely register his hand on your shoulder as he forces you to your knees.

"I told you to motherfucking send them away."

You can't reach the animals through the pain. When the pain lessens, you open an eye you don't remember closing, and see that the animals are fleeing.

The Grand Highblood pulls you up again and shoves you down some stairs. Your legs are wobbly and you have trouble staying upright.

You still register somewhere in your think pan that you're on the ship, on the fuschia flagship, the one you were on minutes before. Highbloods are leering at you.

The pain is making your eyes water, but you're not crying, not quite.

A door closes behind you and the Grand Highblood lets go of you. You stagger and fall to your knees, cradling your broken arm.

"How good of you to make it," a voice says.

You look up. The empress herself stands before you, looking down from amidst masses of hair.

You struggle to your feet, gasping for air.

"Oh, no," she says, smiling. Her sharp teeth are showing. "Better stay down. Looks like you hurt yourshellf." She reaches out with her double trident, and she's barely touching you with it, but the weight of it makes you fall to your knees again.

"Stay," she tells you, as if you were nothing but a stray barkbeast. It infuriates you - almost enough to make you stand up again. She's the one you wanted to kill, the ultimate enemy.

But your legs fail you.

She casts you a look, then glides around you towards the Grand Highblood.

"Let me do my thing and I'll let you do yours," she says. "Anything you need?"

"He killed the psychic," the Highblood says. "I need a new one."

The Condesce nods. "You know where to find them. You seem to be able to subdue him without one as well though, I've noticed."

You can hear the Highblood's grin in his voice. "Pain seems to do the trick," he says, "but I'd like to have... other methods available as well."

She nods at him, and then he's gone.

"Don't worry, he won't be gone long," she says, strolling into your full view again. "Get up."

You don't comply. Partly because you don't want to give her anything she wants, but also because you're not sure your legs would be able to hold you up.

She utters a long-suffering sigh and takes your uninjured arm to help you up. Her touch is kinder than the Grand Highblood's, but she's still far too strong for you to be able to resist her.

Pain is dimming your senses, but you still manage to take in some of your surroundings. You're in what looks like the bridge of her ship. Right behind her, in the middle of the room, there's something that looks like a large pink-and-yellow tree.

"You know, defiance isn't going to get you anywhere," the Condesce says, still holding your arm. "Not that anyfin will get you anywhere at all except the GHB's dungeon."

When you don't answer, she lets go of you. Through an enormous effort of will, you remain standing. When she steps back, you get a better look at the tree-like structure and inhale sharply when you realise what, or rather who, it is.

_I've heard rumours that the Empress took a very powerful Psionic into her service around that time,_ Mindfang had said.

How can he still be alive?

"I have to say," she says. "I expected more of you. The great Summoner. I heard so many stories about you. I don't suppose the bit about bein' able to turn into a dragon is true. That'd be hella impressive."

You're not really listening anymore. Your eyes are fixed on the Psionic. Meulin showed you Mituna's sign; it's difficult to see past the thick pink vines twisting themselves around his body, but you're almost certain it's him. You stumble forwards, past the Empress.

His head is falling onto his chest, his heavy-lidded eyes half closed. They appear to be glowing, red and blue.

"Mituna," you whisper. If he hears you, there's nothing to show it.

"You killed Marquise Spinneret Mindfang," the Empress says. "You were plottin' to have me killed. And still you succumb to a simple broken bone. What's your name?"

You look up at the question.

"What have you done to him?" you ask, your voice soft and coarse.

The Empress smiles thinly. "You recognise my Helmsman? Oh, he's experiencing the gift of immortality. I've grown frond of him, you sea. He's none of your concern, though. Tell me your name."

You look back at Mituna, horrified. She's given him eternity - you didn't even know she was capable of that - and ensured he would be spending it enslaved.

You meet her eyes. Some of your fearlessness is returning. What do you have to lose? Whatever it is that's waiting for you, it can't be worse than _his_ fate.

"I am the Summoner," you say quietly.

She rolls her eyes. "I know your title, cod dammit. I asked for your name. The one I can give the Grand Highblood to whisper at you when you're drownin' in the deepest pit of pain he can conjure up for you."

You hold her gaze. "What's yours?" you challenge her.

She throws her head back and laughs out loudly. "My name? You ask for my name?"

"You must have one," you say matter-of-factly. "And as you're asking for mine, it seems only fair that I know yours."

Her laughter stops abruptly. "You will address me as 'Your Condescension' or 'Your Highness'," she says. "'Empress' will do as well. Those are the only names you will ever need to know."

You take a deep breath and give a pained smile. "In that case, you may address me as 'Summoner'," you say. "But 'Commander' will do as well."

She grins at you again, startling and dangerous. "However hard you may believe it, you are not my equal," she says simply.

"And that's where you're wrong." You keep your voice flat.

"That's where you're wrong, _y_ _our Condescension_ ," she corrects you.

"No," you say. "I didn't come this far to do what thousands of others before me have done as well. You can respect me as an equal or you can kill me. Or -" You shrug. "Since you're going to kill me anyway, you might as well show me some respect."

She looks you up and down, taking in your appearance. You can't read her face at all; it makes you nervous.

"What's your name?" she then asks again.

You swallow. "Rufioh," you say. "What's yours?"

The Empress makes a dismissive gesture. "It's not of conchsequence," she says. "Nobody has used it for millennia, not even me. In fact, I'm not shore I remember. You don't need to know."

She's old, you realise with a start, older than anyone you've ever met. Older than Mindfang was, older than Mindfang ever could have been. In comparison to the Condesce, everyone must seem but a wriggler.

The door slams.

"Ah, Highblood," the Empress says. "You're back."

You tell yourself not to look, but you do anyway.

The Grand Highblood stands in the room with you, and he's not alone. He seems to have grown another foot since he left, but then you realise that you're only getting that impression because the troll standing next to him is so short.

She's tiny, her blood that rare shade between violet and purple that makes you wonder whether she is a sea dweller or a land dweller; her ears are almost shaped like fins, but the slits on her neck could just be scars.

Her nose is small, her eyes wide, and her hands seem slightly too large for her body.

"I can see you found a psychic who suits your needs," the Condesce says.

"A child?" you say, horrified. "Your psychic is a child?!"

"Relax, she's probably older than you," the Highblood says. "Not that you need to concern yourself with her motherfucking age." He nods at her, presumably giving her the signal to do... something.

You manage to wonder if you can overpower her for barely half a second before she's in your mind. She's more subtle than Mindfang was - you can hardly tell what she's trying to do.

Until, suddenly, you are brutally cut off from every animal you've ever had contact with. You thought the pain of your broken arm had already chased them all away; but you've been in contact with animals for so long that you almost always subconsciously share their thoughts on some level.

Now, it's just the hollow, resounding emptiness of your own mind, and it's louder than anyone's thoughts could ever be.

Desperate, you push back into the only other presence left in your mind. The child psychic's.

You learn immediately that her name is Lynara, that she is mute, and that she is utterly and completely loyal to the Grand Highblood.

Then she cuts you off as well.

You struggle, in vain. You can't bear the silence. You reach out, or try to, and suddenly realise that you no longer remember how to.

It is this which finally brings the tears to the surface. You howl and, forgetting the pain in your arm, launch yourself at the girl. She watches you impassively and you want to break her in half - how dare she take your animals, how dare she take away the thing that makes you who you are -

And then, suddenly, every single muscle in your body forgets how to move.

It's not like that time Mindfang made you stay, because you knew she was doing it.

You simply drop, limp as a fish, and lie at the girl's feet as you want to scratch out her eyes.

"Enough," the Condesce says softly.

You remember how to move your muscles, scramble to your feet and prepare to attack Lynara. But the Grand Highblood steps between you, takes your arm and yanks you away from her.

"Let's go," the Condesce says. You know already that it's useless to resist the Highblood's iron grip; not knowing where they're taking you or what's going to happen to you, you simply let yourself be dragged along.

 

 

It only occurs to you a few minutes later that there may still be a way out of this.

Granted, you have no idea how you would do that. You've been captured by the Grand Highblood himself. You're in terrible shape physically. You've lost your dragon lusus, you've lost all your animals.

And the child psychic is likely monitoring every thought you're having, even though you can't feel her presence at all. She's mute - but she probably has other ways of communicating her findings to the Highblood. So any plans of escape you might have will be rendered useless immediately.

Maybe there isn't a way out of this after all. You can't count on anyone to rescue you - in fact, you don't want anyone to rescue you, least of all Colvea, who would be the primary candidate for this. You sent her to safety. You want her to stay safe.

You suddenly realise that you don't remember how to get to Horuss's cave anymore. For a single, panicked moment, you suspect Lynara, until you remember giving your memory to Colvea and feeling a tiny stab of loss after that - you were too preoccupied to dwell on it at the time, but through some force of luck, you've transferred the memory completely, retaining none of it yourself.

Which means Lynara won't be able to get it from you. They won't be able to track Colvea. They won't find her, or Meulin, or Horuss.

This spark of hope (not for yourself, maybe, but at least for your friends) manages to give you strength. You start walking, rather than just being pushed by the Grand Highblood.

They're taking you to the deck of the ship. You can tell that it's landed now, but due to the size of the ship you're still pretty high up.

The Condesce and the Highblood stop, and he shoves you forward to the railing. You look down. You must be the only one visible from the ground.

Down there, you see more blood than you have ever seen in your life. The fighting is over. Many of your people remain; they're crowded together, surrounded by subjugglators, almost like animals in a pen.

Some of them have spotted you. A shout goes through the crowd, people are pointing. Someone starts cheering, but is then cut off as the Grand Highblood steps forward.

He's holding Pyralspite's head up high, clear for all to see, just as the Condesce joins you.

"Look at your hero, you traitors," she says. She's not speaking loudly, but you can tell that every lowblood down there can hear her.

"The dragon is dead, and your hero is a prisoner. Everything he worked for has failed - every one of you has failed. This should prove to you that it's useless to try and overthrow your superiors. If you're lucky some of you may live."

"I'd rather die than live under your rule!" you hear someone shout. A vague smile finds itself to your face. At least your people are still yours.

"Then you shall have your wish," the Condesce says, and your smile vanishes as you watch two of the subjugglators drag a young rustblood man out of the crowd. They beat him until his screams stop.

The Grand Highblood places a hand at the back of your neck. It's not quite a restraint, just a warning.

When the crowd goes quiet, the Condesce raises her voice again.

"I haven't decided yet how to punish all of you for what you did," she says. "But rest assured, something will happen. In the mean time, he will stand for all of you, and I know exactly what to do with him."

She's referring to you. As the Grand Highblood's grip on your neck tightens, you can feel a cold shiver running down your spine.

At the same time, you see a way out, and it's right in front of you. You can get away, you can jump, fly -

Even as part of you registers that that's a terrible, terrible idea, you unfold your wings and free yourself from the Grand Highblood's grip.

As you prepare to take off, your wings spontaneously forget how to fly. Less than a moment later, his hand is on your shoulder, and he forces you to your knees.

The wings, you realise, horror creeping up inside you. Your mistake becomes blindingly obvious.

And of course she's made you forget how to fold them away again.

The Condesce watches, smiles, nods at the Highblood, and you know all of your resistance is useless but you struggle anyway, flailing and thrashing and screaming as his hand closes around your wing and _rips_.

His smile is manic, his eyes full of madness and it's all you can remember as you are drowned in white-hot pain which subsides far too quickly, just in time for you to notice him touching your other wing, running his fingers along it before tearing it off with just as much ease -

You can feel blood running down your back in cascades, and Lynara won't let you feel the pain so you kneel and watch as your wings float to the ground. You try to get up and fall back down immediately, your vision going fuzzy, and you're not in pain but you know you're losing blood, far too much to survive for long... you look up, at the Condesce, your vision going dark at the edges.

"Take him away," she says. "Have him stitched up. Do with him what you want, but make sure he doesn't die. You can't execute a corpse."

You're being picked up and carried away, fingers pressing into your back right where your wings once were, and as pain starts to seep back into your consciousness, you mercifully black out.

 


	23. Interlude

 

_By royal decree of Her Imperious Condescension_

_All adult trolls are to leave the homeworld in order to explore space and expand the empire. In the future, all trolls will be required to depart from Alternia indefinitely as soon as they have undergone their adult moult._

_In order to make the necessary preparations to facilitate this permanent change to our society, one solar sweep of time will be given. Any adult trolls found remaining on Alternia after this time will be culled._

* * *

 

_By royal decree of Her Imperious Condescension_

_All trolls are required to witness the execution of the troll known as the Summoner. The procedure will be broadcast all over Alternia, as well as to all starships in the fleet. Any trolls who miss this occasion will be culled._

_Date to be announced._

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for (psychological) torture in this chapter.

 

 

When you come to, it's dark and you're all alone.

You're in pain, but not overly so. Your torso is bandaged so tightly that it hurts to breathe, and your broken arm feels like it's been set and is pressed against your body in a sling.

They're not planning on letting you die in here. You remember the last words the Condesce said before you passed out - they're not going to allow you to die in captivity. Your death will be long, painful and most of all, public.

You don't know when that will happen, or what you can expect before it does. You can't imagine them torturing you for information; there's barely any you can give them that they don't already know, and even the things they don't know, they could easily extract from your mind using Lynara.

But none of that means that torture isn't going to happen.

Surprisingly, though, you are left alone. You take some time to get accustomed to the dark and once you feel like you're strong enough to move, you get up and have a look around the room you're in.

It's a simple cell, and it's so dark that you have to feel your way around the edges of it. The only source of light comes from the slit underneath the door, and from what you can see, it must be very dim outside the room as well. You can't see - or feel - the ceiling.

You explore the door, which is, unsurprisingly, locked. There doesn't seem to be any furniture in the cell, not even anything to sleep in or a load gaper.

So they won't kill you, but they will make your stay here as unpleasant as possible. You sigh and explore more until you've felt out every corner, every crack in the wall, every bump in the floor.

Then, you sit down cross legged right in the middle of the room, allowing the thoughts you were trying to avoid to catch up with you.

You flex your wings, or the space where your wings once were. It sends a jolt of pain through your back, so you stop immediately.

Oddly, you don't feel too awful about having lost your wings. Without them, you are once more just a normal troll. Given the amount of time in your youth that you spent cursing your mutation, it's not an entirely unwelcome feeling.

And you can understand exactly why the Condesce and the Grand Highblood took them - their symbolic meaning is far too great not to, and you know that if you'd been presented with a similar opportunity, you wouldn't have hesitated a second to take it.

You wonder if that makes you as bad as them.

Good, bad. It's all a matter of perspective.

Mindfang told you that, a million sweeps ago it seems.

_To them, you're the enemy_ , she said. _The highbloods are trying to protect an order they've known for millennia. Change is necessary sometimes, but they can't see it. They only know that you're attacking them and killing them. Good and evil is all relative, and it depends on whose point of view the story is told from._

You miss her.

You wonder what she would say if she could see you now. You wonder if she saw this, if she knew this would happen to you.

_Can you tell me when I'll die, Aranea?_

It's so silent in your mind that you can hear your own mind voice reflected back at you a thousandfold. In a room of mental mirrors, you can barely stand the feeling of yourself.

You reach for Pyralspite, because you're scared and injured and she's always been there. You long for your lusus's protectiveness and her love... if she was here...

Your sobs are echoing through the cell louder than they should. If you'd just looked for her at once, if only you'd abandoned the fight because it was going nowhere - maybe you could have saved her, for once in your life repay all the things she did for you - or maybe if you'd gone up to the ship with her in the first place...

You never even considered the fact that she might die. Your lusus was always so powerful, wise, experienced in battle - she'd lived through so much that you didn't expend a single thought on the fact that she might not live forever. You expected her to outlive you by hundreds of sweeps. She could have raised another ten wrigglers before getting too old.

And it's your fault she died.

Was she angry with you in her last moments, did she feel betrayed or abandoned by you?

You'll never know what exactly happened to her. You try to reconstruct the situation in your mind from what you know: her panic at seeing the Demoness and then that abrupt jolt just a moment before your contact to her broke forever -

The Demoness must have made her fall. You don't know what powers Damara has, but they are definitely considerable. And the time you spent searching for the ladders was enough to allow the Grand Highblood and his psychic to get to her.

If only you'd gotten there first -

Wasn't she, your lusus, protector and friend, more important than your revolution, which failed the moment your mental bond was cut?

If only you'd been there, if only you'd had the chance at least to tell her that you loved her. To apologise for putting her in danger and taking her for granted.

You wonder if that would have made any difference at all.

You don't know how much time has passed before your thoughts turn to Colvea. You've sent your moirail off with a memory that isn't hers, to find a place she doesn't know, to explain to people she's never met that she is your friend and that you sent her. As you think about it, you can imagine a hundred different ways in which she could die. She could be killed by highbloods seeing her escape, or hunted down by others. She could get lost, not finding the cave, wandering around aimlessly until she gets killed by a wild animal or another troll or starvation. Maybe Horuss and Meulin aren't as welcoming as you'd hoped. Maybe you sent her to her death rather than safety.

You'll never know, you suppose.

You hear something. The door is unlocking.

In a flash, you're on your feet and at the door, ignoring the pain from your arm and your back. The light from the corridor is dim, but blinding nonetheless. You can barely manage to make out the shape of the troll who's there.

He's a haughty-looking troll you've never seen before, his sign stripped. Without looking at you or smiling, he hands you a plate with food as well as a bottle.

"How long have I been here?" you ask him. "What are they going to do to me?"

The midblood doesn't even meet your eyes. Before you know it, the door is closed again. The key turns, and you're on your own again.

You inspect the plate you've been given. You can't see much, but from the smell you can tell that it's a mixture of grub and meat.

You're not hungry, and even though you don't doubt that you will eventually, you put the plate down and retreat to the opposite corner of the room. You're not eating that.

You hope you can hold up your resolve, because even now, eating the flesh of animals - your friends, your comrades since you were old enough to think - would feel like the worst betrayal possible. The very fact that the food is here, that animals were killed for you to eat makes you feel sick.

You unscrew the cap from the bottle and sniff.

Faygo. You should have known. Another thing you won't be consuming if you can help it.

But at least now you have a way of estimating how much time you've spent here. You don't know whether they plan on feeding you once or twice a night (three times would surely be excessive), but at least there will be something of a rhythm, something to remind you that the outside world does indeed still exist.

With that slightly comforting thought on your mind, you drift off to sleep on the cold, hard floor. It's difficult to find a position to sleep in, and it seems you are woken by pain every few minutes, but exhaustion keeps claiming you.

You are jerked into consciousness when the door opens again. You're tempted to just keep lying down, but you force yourself to your feet anyway.

You're shivering from the cold and aching all over your body, and sleeping has only served to magnify your fears. You heavily step towards the door, where the same slave is holding another plate with food, as well as two bottles of Faygo.

"I'm not going to eat that," you tell him. "I'm a plant-eater."

As if to contradict you, your stomach rumbles loudly. You realise you are hungry, very much so in fact, but the thought of eating meat, alongside with your uncertainty of what will happen to you as well as your fear and pain chases away all appetite.

Besides, you've gone for longer than this without food.

The slave doesn't look at you. He thrusts the plate at you. You let it drop to the ground. The sound of the plate breaking is dissonant, shrill, unnaturally loud in your ears; the Faygo bottles roll across the cell floor.

"I'm not going to eat it," you repeat. "You can either start bringing me adequate food, or you can let me starve."

Without saying anything, the slave shuts the door in your face and locks it.

You sigh, step over the mess you've made of the meal and sit down against a wall. You doubt you could sleep now. Just seeing another troll has made you jittery. Your heart is beating fast and you can feel your skin heating up - where you were cold just a few minutes ago, you're now feeling too warm. Desperately, you try to remember how to reach out to animals, because you need someone, something - anything -

But all you can feel is your own mind, and hatred is flaming up faster than you can think. Stronger than anything you've ever felt, pure, platonic hate, both hellishly hot and as cold as ice, hate not for anyone else but yourself because how, how can you be expected to spend all this time with no-one but yourself for company -

You breathe hard, tears running over your face, as you search with your mind again and again for anyone or anything to help you, to talk to you, to share their thoughts with you, you want your lusus more than anything and her name falls from your lips as you sob, but you miss so many others as well, Aranea and Colvea and Meulin, you long so hard for just someone, anyone, all the animals you used to communicate with, every single one of them would be better than this...

When you wake up (you didn't realise you fell asleep), your back is still against the wall and you've sagged to one side. Your injured arm is sending jolts of pain through your body. You wish you could at least see something. Anything.

When the slave comes again to bring you food (meat again), you ignore it and go for him, because it doesn't matter who he is, you just want someone, a touch, a word -

You're only aware of the quiet figure of Lynara behind him for a fraction of a second before she makes you go backwards. You didn't get to feel his skin and you can't believe how desperate you have become in only a few nights (how long has it been? You think this is only the third time someone has brought you food, but if you're honest with yourself, you can't remember clearly).

You never see the slave again after that; it's Lynara who brings you food you still refuse to eat even though it gets harder every time. She looks at you, at least, but takes care not to touch you.

You don't know how long it takes for your resolve to break a little. You're so thirsty you can barely feel your own tongue anymore when you step onto a bottle of Faygo - there are far too many in your cell by now and give in. The soda simultaneously tastes like the best and worst thing on Alternia, and once you've started, you can't stop drinking it. It's so sweet you feel like your organs are rotting inside of you, it's so disgusting that you doubt you'd be able to taste anything else even if you did eat anything, and the taste lingers on your tongue and you have nothing to wash it down with except more Faygo. Every time you try to stop drinking you just get thirstier and thirstier, you feel delirious from the sugar, and it weakens your resolve when it comes to the food; even though you're still holding up, you can feel yourself giving in.

Just a bite, you can feel yourself think every time you are brought meat. It can't hurt, you need to eat, they're already dead, they won't feel it -

It only serves to add to your hate of yourself.

You don't know how long it lasts. You find yourself retching up Faygo without really realising what you're doing, and the taste of your own vomit is hardly better than the Faygo itself, but distracts a little bit from the monotony. Piles of rotting food are strewn all over your cell, along with your own excrements. The smell makes it a little easier not to eat. You haven't heard the sound of another troll's voice for goodness knows how long, and you still cry for your lusus more often than you care to count. Your bones start sticking out and you get weak to the point of barely being able to stand up. Along with the revolting taste of Faygo and sick, hunger is your constant companion, as is pain - your arm and back refuse to heal, and the bandage feels soggy and dirty around the spot where your wings used to be.

And then, you are dragged into the light by a slave you haven't seen before. The Grand Highblood doesn't have to ask you to kneel. Your broken arm is taken out of its sling, your hands tied behind your back. You don't have the energy to scream, but nearly pass out from the pain. Tears are running down your face uncontrollably.

Lynara is there, and she takes away the pain and makes you look up.

"Watch," the Grand Highblood says, and it's the first word you've heard in uncountable hours of horrid darkness.

In front of you, there are lowbloods. Lots of them. You recognise some of their faces. They all look gaunt, scared, hopeless; wide eyes are fixed on you, full of horror and despair.

They were Cavalreapers.

You can see the Grand Highblood nod in the periphery of your vision, then two subjugglators step forward and drag one of the prisoners forward. His screams echo in your ears frighteningly sweet. You haven't heard anyone's voice in so long...

A third subjugglator is operating a device. It takes you a second to recognise what it is, and by then, the lowblood's head has already been split from his body. The silence is painful.

"No," you say, babbling before you realise you're talking, surprised by the sound of your own voice, "no, you don't have to - you don't need to kill all of them - just to - you can't -"

The Grand Highblood sends you a look, unsmiling.

"Watch, motherfucker," he simply repeats. Lynara directs your head.

The second one is a rustblood taller than his executors. He fights his way to the guillotine, injuring one of the subjugglators, shouting and kicking and biting, his eyes fixed on you. You can't help but return his stare, cling to the sound of his screaming voice, no words -

Until his eyes go blank and his screams stop.

You knew him. He was a commander of one of the Cavalreaper camps who came to join you. He was so convinced you were leading him to a better future.

You don't remember his name, and hate yourself, hate yourself for not remembering, for destroying his hopes, for being guilty for his death.

The next one is a woman of slightly higher blood than you, and she's not screaming. Her eyes lock with yours.

"Summoner," she says, "Summoner -"

You want to say something, but your voice fails you. It's only after her head rolls to the ground that you manage to get a single word out.

"Sorry." It's barely more than a whisper.

The dead trolls are all just thrown into a pile. You lose count quickly. You drift in and out of awareness as time passes. You don't feel pain, but you're exhausted and hungry and thirsty, so thirsty. You want your lusus.

After a while, you feel numb, and the only feeling replacing the horror at the lowbloods' deaths is a mild relief that Colvea isn't among them.

An indeterminate amount of time later, you are dragged to your feet. Someone pushes a bottle of Faygo into your hands and you drink thirstily, desperately, without question. The room you're dragged to isn't your cell, but a smaller, lighter, cleaner room. You collapse as soon as they let go of you.

You're shaken awake and your vision zones in to a face hovering over you. She's another slave. She's smiling and helping you sit up.

As her eyes wander down your body, you look at her. She's old, her hands are kind, and she hasn't made you feel pain yet.

"We need to get you fed," she then says. "Haven't you gotten food?"

You swallow, your throat dry and tasting of Faygo.

"I didn't eat it," you whisper. "It's... animals, they're my friends, I can't eat them."

She cusses under her breath. Her hands wander over your torso, putting mild pressure on the wound on your back and jerking away when you hiss in pain.

"Sorry," she says. "Sorry - I - can I have a look? I'm a healer," she adds. "I stitched you up after they did - that - to you - sorry -"

You try to hold still as she unwraps the bandage.

"It's not healing properly," she says. "You need to eat."

"If you want me to eat, you need to convince them to bring me food I can eat," you say softly.

She sighs.

"I've had Faygo," you add. You're not sure why.

The healer rolls her eyes. "He keeps doing that. And who am I to tell him not to - apart from the one having to deal with the consequences?"

"Consequences," you echo.

"Addiction," she says. "Apathy. Malnutrition - you're getting too much sugar and not enough else, your body can't handle it. You're pretty far gone already, and you've only been on an all-Faygo diet for a few nights. It should be banned, but no one listens to me. It'll kill you if you drink enough of it."

"Will it?" you say, raising your eyebrows.

"Yes," she says grimly. "It will, especially if you're not eating."

"You should tell him that," you say. "He doesn't want me to die."

She smiles at you, the first genuine smile you've seen in what feels like sweeps. You feel tears welling up, not tears of fear or loss or pain but gratitude - she's touching you, talking to you, smiling -

"Don't cry, Summoner," she says. "It won't help you."

She says it like a fact, not a threat. You know she's right. You can't help the tears that run down your cheeks when she withdraws, though.

She turns you around and dabs something at the wound. You feel a sharp pain and yelp.

"Shhh," she says. She wraps you up again, tightening the bandage. "You need to eat."

When you don't answer, she faces you and examines your arm.

"He didn't want me to bandage your arm, you know," she says.

Your tears are stil flowing freely, but you hold still.

"Thanks," you whisper.

"I'm a slave," she says, looking up at you. "You gave me hope. It's the least I can do."

You look at her for a long moment.

"I'm so sorry," you say. "So sorry to disappoint you -"

"You haven't," she says grimly. "I work for the Grand Highblood, so I never expected you to come even this far. Your failure was inevitable. But you tried, and that's what counts. Hold still." She holds a splint against your arm and bandages it up. It hurts, but not as much as it did before. When she's done, she puts your arm into a sling again.

"There," she says.

"What's your name?"

She grimaces. "I'm not supposed to tell you. I'm not even supposed to talk to you."

"Please," you whisper.

She looks at you for a long moment.

"Direni," she then says.

"What will happen to me, Direni?"

She takes your uninjured arm and helps you stand.

"I don't know," she says. "Your - execution -" She grimaces at the word. "It's not scheduled yet. But right now, the Grand Highblood wants to see you. I was - asked - to take you to him."

"Okay," you say. "I - I'm scared."

"You should be," Direni says.

 

 

She leads you to an enormous door behind which, you imagine, the Highblood is waiting for you.

"You could just let me run away," you say softly. "I could just... leave."

Her look is undisguised pity.

"Where would you go?" she answers, then pushes the doors open and nudges you inside before closing the door behind you.

 

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for torture and violence.

 

 

The room is massive. Despite your fears, the Grand Highblood isn't there. But you can see the huge throne-like chair which you've heard about, sitting contently in front of the wall which is stained with a rainbow of blood.

His wall. _The_ wall.

The room is so big that you can't even begin to look for an escape.

It turns out you wouldn't have a chance either way, because when you cautiously start to approach one of the windows, Lynara appears out of seemingly nowhere so suddenly that you start and jump back, stumble and hit the ground.

You groan and look at her. Even though she's standing up and you're sitting on the ground, she's not much higher up than you.

"Lynara," you say.

Her face remains unchanged, and even though you can't feel her presence on your mind, you suddenly know that you mustn't talk to her.

"But," you try. She seals your lips shut.

You try to find her, search for her, reach out to her with your mind, but to your mind, it's like she doesn't exist.

You should know better, you should leave her alone, but you remember that she took your animals away from you, you remember that she cut you off from everything you hold dear and you get up on shaky legs. You don't know what you're trying to accomplish, you know you'll fail, but you move towards her anyway.

She watches you advance. When you're almost close enough to touch her, you hear a voice behind you.

"Leave her alone."

You turn around to see the Grand Highblood facing you.

"Why?" you challenge him. "She would win anyway, you know that."

"I want your attention focussed on me," he replies calmly. "She's only here to make sure you don't get any stupid ideas. Sit," he adds, pointing to a small chair.

"No," you say, even though your legs are kind of giving out under you and that chair looks really, really inviting.

He rolls his eyes. "I can assure you, this will get painful enough for you without you being a defiant motherfucker."

You don't move.

"As you wish," he says, sounding annoyed, and grabs your horns to drag you over to the chair. You're so drained of energy that you don't even fight or scream, even though it hurts. You slump over in the chair.

The Grand Highblood produces a bottle of Faygo from nowhere and holds it out to you.

"Drink, motherfucker."

"No," you say softly. You're thirsty, thirsty as hell and you're actually surprised you can muster the strength to hold back because a big part of you wants nothing more than that bottle of Faygo, now.

The Grand Highblood pushes the bottle into your hand and you drop it, your hands shaking.

In response, he grips one of your horns with such force that you let out a pained hiss.

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks. "Everything you do will only make this worse for you."

His other hand is on your head now, his fingers almost encircling the whole of your scalp with such a pressure that you feel like your skull is going to crack. He yanks his other hand backwards and there is a _crack_ followed immediately by pain so excruciating that you hear your own screams echoing through the hall. You fall, fall off the chair and curl up into a ball on the floor, lights flashing before your eyes and pain searing through your body from the place where your horn was -

You are hoisted upwards, the Highblood's hands under your arms, and sat on the chair. You collapse, bury your head in your hands, thrown off balance by the sudden weight difference between the sides of your head and wanting to touch your broken horn but not daring to -

The Grand Highblood grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you upwards so you're sitting straight. You hardly have a choice but to face him, your head tilted, your eyes watering and colouring the whole world brown, so much pain -

"Drink," he says, pushing a bottle into your shaking hands. You drop the bottle again, this time not out of defiance, but simply because you can't hold it. When the Highblood moves to pick it up, you half fall, half launch yourself forwards.

He doesn't expect it; even your weak momentum is enough to knock him backwards. You end up lying on top of him, which you didn't expect or plan. You're too weak to move, your face inches from his, his painted grin seeping through the agony into your think pan.

Then he pushes you off and you fall on your back, barely registering the jolt of pain from the wound where your wings used to be against the shrill, all-encompassing pain of losing your horn.

And then, suddenly, your pain is gone.

 _Lynara_ , you think, still too weak to even whisper. You stay where you are, you don't even open your eyes.

"Why won't you drink the wicked elixir?" you hear the Grand Highblood ask.

You take a few breaths, relish the feeling of not being in pain, but don't dare to sit up.

You do open an eye to look at the Highblood, though.

"She said it was bad for me," you say softly, "it could kill me, and I haven't been eating -"

"She said," the Highblood echoes. "The healer?"

Shit. Direni. She wasn't supposed to talk to you.

"She didn't -," you stammer, "she only -"

The Grand Highblood laughs. "I'm sure she meant no harm. She probably felt sorry for you. You are one pathetic motherfucker, after all."

You groan softly, berating yourself for your own stupidity, and slowly push yourself up with your uninjured arm. You're not in pain, but your whole body is shaking.

"Don't hurt her," you whisper.

The Grand Highblood looks at you and grins manically. "Don't worry about her," he says. "Get up."

You know it's useless to resist. You push yourself up to your knees and fall back down; it seems impossible to get on your feet. Your head falls to the side, dragged down by the weight of your intact horn.

You reach up and gingerly touch your broken horn. Your fingers come away sticky with blood. The lack of pain feels wrong, so wrong.

A second later, the Grand Highblood is in front of you. He drags you up and you have to lean against him so your legs don't give out from underneath you. He laughs darkly and puts his arm around you almost supportively, and like that, you make your way over to the wall.

He lets go of you and you fall to your knees again.

"Lots of peasantblood on this wall already," he says. "Normally I wouldn't bother with someone of your low blood, but you're a special motherfucker."

He produces a dagger from somewhere and in a single, fluid movement drags you up and slashes you across the chest. The cut is deep enough to draw blood immediately; you feel no pain and watch as your blood splatters artfully across the wall.

"Your legacy, Summoner," the Grand Highblood says.

 

 

You are taken back to the cell, which against all odds seems to have been cleaned. Maybe it's a different cell. You can't tell.

The slave who takes you doesn't talk to you, but before she closes the cell door behind you, she hands you a big bottle. You don't get the chance to see what it is before the door closes and it's too dark.

You unscrew the cap carefully and sniff. It's not Faygo.

You take a tiny sip. The clear, pure taste of water touches your tongue for a moment. You gasp, hardly believing your luck, and drink more, careful not to spill a single drop. You have to stop yourself from drinking too much - who knows when you'll get this gift again.

Your mouth tastes clean for the first time in an eternity. You put the bottle down. Without further ado, you curl up on the cold hard floor and fall into an exhausted sleep.

 

 

You wake up because you are in pain.

It's not the shrill, ubiquitous pain it was before, but your broken horn is sending throbs and stabs of pain through your whole body. Beyond that, the cut on your chest is leaky and itching, your back feels like it's going to burst, your broken arm is complaining and your muscles are aching.

Also, your hunger which was chased away by the disgusting taste of Faygo has returned in full force, and you haven't been brought anything.

You sit up gingerly, doing your best to ignore everything, but curl up again immediately as your broken horn screams in pain. A whimper escapes your lips, and you can hear the door being unlocked.

Unable to move, you stay curled up on the floor. Strong arms grab you and hoist you up. You don't resist, you just squeeze your eyes together and try not to let any sounds escape you as pain sears through your body. You're made to walk and walk and then kneel down. Someone raises up your head and you reluctantly open your eyes.

It's the same sight you were presented with the last time you were brought out. Lowbloods penned in, waiting to be executed.

The first one to step forward is Direni.

You can't even be shocked. You knew it was going to happen from the moment the Grand Highblood realised she talked to you. You can't hold back the tears as you watch her walk towards the guillotine, her head held high.

She looks at you. The horror must be showing on your face, because she manages a thin smile.

"See you on the other side, Summoner," she says.

You wish you could be as brave as she. She doesn't look scared at all. A grim determination is set on her face, and she looks at the executors as if she's challenging them to kill her.

You bite back a sob as the guillotine crashes down. Another death, another troll's life on your conscience, another one you hoped to save, back when you still had hope.

You think of Colvea, and you look for her in the crowd of lowbloods, hesitant relief flooding through you when you can't see her. The relief intensifies with every lowblood who's killed who isn't Colvea, and you hate yourself for caring so little about these trolls. You know some of them. They don't deserve to die. But you can't bring yourself to care too much, with pain and hunger and fear occupying your mind.

Afterwards, you're dragged back into your cell and left there. You were expecting to be seen by another healer, or maybe the Highblood again. Instead, you're by yourself. You find the bottle of water and drink, hoping to still your hunger a little bit.

You try to sleep again, but the pain keeps you awake; you drift in and out of consciousness as you try not to think or feel. There's nothing to do in your cell and nobody for company but yourself, and you rediscover your hatred of yourself. All those trolls you watched die, all of them believed in you, and all you've ever done is disappoint everyone.

Maybe, you think, the whole revolution was a giant mistake from the very start. Maybe you shouldn't have trusted Meulin when she told you you were a leader. You shouldn't have let Mindfang get so close to you. Maybe you should have shunned society forever, scared of what everyone would think of your wings - maybe if you'd not come back, Alternia would be better off.

It takes the better part of a night until you admit to yourself that you would never in a million sweeps have done anything any other way, because the cause was just too big for you to abandon. You were hopeful, and you could have succeeded -

You don't know how long it's been, but you hear something at the door. You expect it to open, you expect someone to come in and hand food to you or drag you out.

Instead, a small flash of light somewhere close to the ground appears, then vanishes. You crawl over to the door and press your fingers against the space where you saw the light. You can feel a tiny slit, and then another one. Next to them there's a new bottle.

A chill passes down your spine when you realise what this means. They've developed a new method of giving you things that doesn't involve you seeing other trolls. It's like a meowbeast flap, only you're unlikely to be able to use it to get outside.

You sigh heavily. Your old water bottle is almost empty, so you pick up the new bottle and pray that it contains more water, not Faygo.

Your prayers go unanswered. You can smell the wicked elixir, as the Highblood called it, as soon as you open the bottle, and quickly screw the cap back on. If you don't get food, you might have to drink it at some point. You don't like the prospect.

You sit in the dark, try not to think, try to ignore the pain, try to sleep. None of that works particularly well. If you were stronger, you'd get up, pace, explore your cell again, but even standing up is beyond you now. All you can do is sit, or lie, and wait for your captors to show mercy.

Mercy doesn't come until far, far later. You don't see another troll's face, you don't hear anyone's voice even though you take up shouting at the flap whenever you're brought anything. You get so tired of the sound of your own voice. You're brought Faygo and, occasionally, water; you treasure the water and drink the Faygo because you barely have another choice. You start getting delirious again, talk to yourself to combat the silence until you want to tear out your own throat from how much you hate your own voice. You dream about food, because you're not brought any food at all now. Your world shrinks to a few square feet of cold, dark cell.

But surprisingly, you don't get weaker and weaker. The Faygo still tastes more disgusting than anything you've ever had, and you long for the taste of anything, literally anything else, but you don't throw it up anymore. Your strength returns and after a while, you feel well enough to get up and walk around a bit. It relieves the monotony, even if not by much. You can concentrate on it instead, it chases the thoughts away, and you begin to understand why caged animals pace up and down in their confines so much.

Even your wounds are starting to heal, and hurt a little bit less.

The downside of this becomes blindingly obvious only a little later.

Because with the pain and discomfort fading, the only thing you can think about anymore is how dreadfully lonely you are. It's worse, so much worse than when you were an outcast because of your wings, because back then, it was by your own volition, and you always had the choice to go back and face your fears. Now, all you can do is scream at the door and listen in vain for an answer that will never come. You long so much for another troll, or an animal, even the tiniest critters would be enough for you, just some life other than yourself, someone whose thoughts you can share, even if it's just tiny squeakbeast thoughts. You try and fail to reach out, so many times, but find nothing.

You wish Pyralspite was here. You wish you could just talk to her like you once did. You want her presence to linger comfortingly in the back of your mind, you want her to protect you like she always did, you want to curl up against her scales until everything is all right again.

Nothing will ever be all right again, you think bitterly. It's simply the truth. No one can save you. You don't want to be saved. You want it to be over.

 

 

The door opens, waking you from a restless sleep.

You blink, the sudden, unexpected light burning your eyes. You're drowsy, but still realise what's happening in less than a second, and shoot to your feet.

But there's no one at the door. You step outside your cell, look along the corridor. Your eyes get used to the light.

"Hello?" you ask tentatively. You just want to see someone, hear someone's voice, anyone, anything -

You suddenly know with overwhelming clarity that you'll find what you're looking for if you go to your left. You don't question it, you simply walk. Directions are being fed into your head without you being aware of a presence in your mind, and once you've stopped feeling relieved that you're finally allowed to exit your cell, it creeps you out more than you can say. It's Lynara, it has to be, and the fact that you can't see her anywhere just leaves you terrified.

You finally come to a relatively small wooden door and stop, even though you know you have to go through.

"Where am I going?" you ask out loud, knowing that nobody will answer, but that Lynara will hear your question nonetheless.

What will it be - more executions you'll have to witness, made more effective by your returned strength? Or maybe your own execution?

The silence is ringing in your ears, so you open the door.

It's so dark in the small room that for a moment, you think you're back in your cell. And then you hear a voice.

"Come in, Rufioh."

You know the voice. It's the Highblood. Part of you wants to run (you know you wouldn't get far), but you don't. You long so much for company, any company - you barely hesitate.

The door falls shut behind you. A small flame illuminates the room as the Grand Highblood lights a candle.

"Sit," he says. His voice is soft. The candle light makes his face look less dangerous. A small smile is teasing around the edges of his mouth.

So you sit on the chair opposite him.

"I can see you've regained some of your strength," he says. "You should have more faith in the wicked elixir, my brother."

You look at him. "The healer said it would kill me," you say softly.

The Grand Highblood laughs. "Ordinary Faygo would," he agrees. "But my Faygo is special. Direni didn't know that, so she jumped to unfair conclusions."

"You didn't have to kill her," you say.

The Grand Highblood smiles. "You're so young," he says. "Even if it was true, there's nothing you can do about it now, so it's useless to dwell on it."

You keep silent.

"So, Rufioh," he continues. "I want you to tell me about you. About your life. Entertain me, so to speak."

You raise your eyebrows. "What do you want to know?" you ask.

"Well," he says, "Lynara has let me know you used to have a matesprit? We could start with that."

You swallow heavily.

"What if I don't want to talk about her?" you whisper.

The Grand Highblood rolls his eyes. "You're going to tell me," he simply says.

You sigh and resign yourself to your fate.

"It's actually quite an interesting story," you say carefully. "Without her, I probably wouldn't be here."

"Do tell."

You reluctantly sit up a little straighter.

"You've probably heard of her," you say, doing your best to keep your voice strong. "Her name was Marquise Spinneret Mindfang."

The Highblood looks at you for a moment, seemingly confused, then a grin spreads over his face.

"You killed her," he says.

"I killed her," you echo, with a sad smile. "I had to."

And because he looks at you expectantly, you spill out the whole story without thinking.

"She was opposing me, and trying to keep it secret from me, but my moirail saw her. And even after I confronted her about it, she kept doing it, and before I knew it, she was sabotaging me worse than I ever thought she could. She - I loved her," you say, swallow again. "But she was a threat, so I formed a plan. Everyone knew she was antagonising me, and I knew if I fought her and won it would help my cause greatly. I - I discussed it with her. When I challenged her and we went to duel, she didn't expect to survive."

The Grand Highblood grins when you finish your story.

"You killed your matesprit because it would benefit your cause," he says.

You nod. "My greatest enemy, and she was my matesprit at the same time."

He laughs.

You almost smile, because it's such a genuine laughter, and you haven't heard anyone laugh in a very long time.

"I suppose it is kind of funny," you say.

"You - you think so too?" he asks, between gasps of laughter.

You hesitate.

"No. Yeah. Maybe. It - I miss her," you say, almost apologetically. "But I've made my peace with it, I think, and it is sort of funny. A bit. Objectively."

The Grand Highblood laughs harder, and you think that maybe, just maybe, he's not all that scary when he's amused.

He calms down after a while and looks at you.

"That was excellent, for a start," he says. "Do you have more stories like this?"

You scrunch up your face, thinking. "Maybe," you say.

"You have a moirail, don't you?" he asks.

You nod.

"Right," he says. "I've been asked to tell you that we have people out looking for her. I suppose it must be comforting for you to know we haven't found her yet. Rest assured that you'll know when we do."

You can tell that it's supposed to be a threat, but somehow, it calms down your fears for Colvea more than anything else. She's safe, she must have made it, otherwise the Highblood's people would have found her long ago. And you trust Horuss's cave.

You suddenly think of a story to tell the Grand Highblood, and you say so.

"Oh?" He grins. "This should be interesting."

"You're familiar, I'm sure, with the story of the Sufferer?" you ask.

He nods.

"I met his Disciple," you say. "She got away from her Executor when the Sufferer died, and has lived in hiding ever since. Well, Mindfang introduced me to Darkleer - the Executor. And I was there when he and the Disciple met, only a few weeks ago."

You pause a little for effect before you deliver the punchline.

"They're moirails now."

It has the desired effect. The Highblood throws his head back and laughs so loudly that the whole room seems to shake with the force of it.

"Moirails?" he gasps. "That's - ridiculous -"

 _It's not if you know the whole story_ , you think, but wisely avoid telling him that.

"You're good," the Highblood says, wheezing, "you're really good. I haven't laughed like that in ages."

You allow yourself to smile.

"Now, Rufioh," he says when he's calmed down again. "You're my prisoner, but that doesn't mean I can't give things to you. Is there anything you want?"

You look at him, slightly incredulous.

_I want my animals back. I want my lusus to be alive. I want Lynara to stop messing with my think pan. I want company. I want to fly again. I want to know Colvea is safe._

And then, after a very, very long moment of hesitation, you say tentatively, "Food?"

The Grand Highblood raises an eyebrow.

"It's been so long," you whisper. "Please?"

His expression doesn't change.

"You may go," he simply says.

You don't think you'd remember the way back to your cell, but once again, your mind is directed by an unseen force, the knowledge that you can't escape engraved into your think pan, and the door falling shut behind you as you are enveloped in darkness once again.

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for rape - I did write it with the intention of it being dubious consent but it's, well, VERY dubious consent and I don't want anyone to be triggered by it.

 

 

For a while, you simply sit in your cell, puzzling over what the hell just happened.

Before you can reach a conclusion, the flap in the door is operated. You can hear, but you can't see what's being pushed through, and you rush over to find out. For the first time in weeks, you don't shout at the flap. You feel your way down the door and find a plate.

A plate with food on it. A single sniff tells you that it's not meat, or grubs, but bread. Simple bread, a little stale and dry, but it's bread.

You've never felt so relieved in your intire life. You still have a little water left, so you get it and sit down to the first decent meal you've had in an eternity.

The bread tastes like the best thing you've ever had, and together with the water, it almost comes close to washing the taste of Faygo from your mouth. It's not enough, you didn't think it would be, and your stomach grumbles loudly.

Less than an hour later, you're lying on the floor, having to actively keep yourself from throwing up the bread. Your stomach is cramping and you won't, you won't, won't throw up, because that bread was the first food you got in ages -

You don't realise what you're doing until you're reaching for the Faygo and drinking it even though it's only going to make things worse - except it doesn't. Only moments after you swallow the first mouthful of Faygo, your stomach calms down. It still hurts, but you don't feel like you're going to throw up now.

It makes you wonder, bitterly, what sort of game the Grand Highblood is playing.

You don't remember falling asleep, but you're woken by another plate with bread being pushed into your cell. You get up, feeling a little wobbly, and you're still in pain and feeling sick. You put the bread to the side with the last of your water. Reluctantly, you drink a bit of Faygo. You haven't been given any drinks and you're running out of water, but you've still got more than enough Faygo.

After another three deliveries of bread you still don't feel well enough to eat, two of which came with a bottle of Faygo, you are let out again. It's the same as before, the corridor empty and a vague notion settling inside your head of where you need to go.

You don't know if it's the same room as it was before, but it might as well be. The Highblood is there, and you've never been happier to see his face. After the last session, you are almost certain he doesn't intend to hurt you any more.

And he's smiling when he sees you.

 

 

Over the next few nights, you get invited out of your cell to see the Highblood several times. You spend more and more time in the small dark room with him, both your faces illuminated by candle light. You tell him most of your life story. He laughs at more stories than you would expect him to. He continues to give you bread and after a while, you don't feel sick when you eat it.

"Why are you so kind to me?" you dare to ask when you sit across from him for the sixth time. (Or is it the seventh? It's getting hard to keep track.)

He smiles at you almost gently.

"I like you," he says. "And I see no reason to mistreat you more than I already have. The Empress didn't specify what she wants me to do to you, only that you have to be alive at the end of it."

It reminds you that there will be an end to this life, and that it will simultaneously be the end to your life.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"No need to thank me."

You find yourself under the piercing gaze of his purple eyes and look away shyly. He moves, as if to touch you, and when he stops and withdraws, you feel a sudden, burning disappointment because even though it's not like you trust him or like him (you don't!) he's the only troll you've seen or spoken to in weeks -

He leans back and you look at him, the painted features of his face illuminated by the candle.

"When will my execution be?" you ask softly.

The Grand Highblood looks at you for a very long time, his figure motionless and his eyes sharp.

Just before he speaks, he closes his eyes for a fleeting moment and lets out a breath that very nearly sounds like a sigh.

"Eventually."

You swallow.

"I don't want to die." The words are almost inaudible. You expect him to laugh.

He doesn't.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asks instead.

You bite your lip. There's one thing you've wanted to ask him to do, but you never thought you'd be able to, but he seems so gentle, even caring...

"Lynara," you say. "She - she scares me. I don't know who I am anymore. I - can you tell her to - to get out of my head just so - just so I can - I don't know -"

As if summoned by an inaudible call, the child psychic steps out of the shadows behind the Highblood. She looks at you with cold indifference.

The Grand Highblood reaches over lazily and snaps her neck.

You stare as she falls to the ground, as silent in death as she was in life. Her small body sprawls out, her face as indifferent as it was before. Tiny and harmless.

But nothing happens inside your think pan. You close your eyes, concentrate, try to reach out to animals and find that you still don't know how to do that.

"Most of the things she did were permanent," the Grand Highblood says.

You bury your face in your hands. You feel exactly the same way as before. The tears won't come - you probably used them all up.

Your animals... you want them back, you need them, you can't just face the rest of your life alone -

You feel a soft, hesitating touch on your shoulder and it reminds you that you're not alone, he barely counts as company but he's here, and you lean in to him and wrap your arm around his waist, your broken arm protests when you try to move it but you want to keep him here, close to you, touching you because it's been so, so long since anyone touched you -

One of his hands runs through your hair and the last time he touched your head you lost a horn but it's all past and forgotten and you don't want him to stop, ever.

"Rufioh," he says, slipping down to his knees next to you, and when you raise your head and open your eyes his face is close to you -

He withdraws before you can reach for him and gets up. He keeps a hold of your arm so you stand up with him.

"It's way past time you got back to your block," he says softly.

He accompanies you there. As the door closes behind you, separating you from him, the tears finally come; you don't know what you're crying about as you lie on the stone floor, sobbing helplessly.

 

 

When your door opens again, he's standing behind it.

You've only just woken up. In a flash, he's inside your cell, taking your uninjured arm and helping you to your feet. You lean against him sleepily. Without saying a word, he puts an arm around you and tugs you outside.

You're not taken to the dark candlelit room tonight. Instead, the Grand Highblood opens a different door and pushes you inside.

"You'll take a bath," he informs you and closes the door behind you. You're not exactly sure why you feel like crying again, but the sight of the freshly drawn, bubbly bath waiting for you chases all thoughts from your think pan. You're absolutely filthy, you know you are. There's soap, fresh towels, even clean clothes. The prospect of getting yourself cleaned up makes you feel more excited than you care to admit, and without further ado, you strip off the clothes you've been wearing for who knows how long. You fuss a little bit with your bandages and then take them off as well, even the one around your broken arm, and lower yourself into the bathtub.

The water has just the right temperature, not too hot and not too cold. Your back barely stings when it gets into contact with the water, which is a good sign. Your arm is a different matter, and you're not even going to try coming close to your broken horn, but it feels so nice to let the water wash your skin clean. You rub soap into every part of your skin that you can reach with your uninjured arm, you wash your hair, and afterwards you let your broken arm rest on the edge of the bathtub while your body soaks in the water.

When you feel like you're going to shrivel up from the hot water and every muscle in your body is thoroughly relaxed, you get out. You redo the bandage on your arm, and even though it looks and feels like it's going to come apart at any moment, you feel it's better than nothing. You dry yourself off and slip into your new clothes, only slightly dismayed to find that there are only trousers. There are worse things than going shirtless.

When you step outside the room, the Grand Highblood is waiting for you. Without saying a single word, he takes your broken arm into his surprisingly gentle hands and refastens the bandage. It looks a lot neater and more stable now.

"Thanks," you say softly.

He doesn't reply, but indicates you to follow him, which you do. You know the way to the candlelit room by now and you're surprised to see he's taking you to a different one.

It's just as dark as the other one and after the Highblood enters, you hesitate for a moment and then follow him. The door falls shut behind you, leaving you in that absolute darkness you've grown accustomed to from your cell.

A second later, he's on you, pinning you to the door with his hands. His breath is cool against your cheek and he holds you by the shoulders, not going near your injured arm.

"What -" you start, but he cuts you off effectively by kissing you.

Whatever you were expecting - this isn't it.

You can't move back any further, your back against the wall, and struggling is useless. His cold lips are on yours, cooler than Mindfang's ever were, and now he's parting his lips and pressing his tongue against yours.

You haven't been kissed like this ever, not even when Mindfang was black for you and you wanted nothing more than to kill her, because he is cold and more arrogant than Mindfang and cruel and you don't know what's happening but suddenly, your hand is threading through his long, messy hair, messier than Mindfang's ever was and you're kissing him back -

He winds his arms around your bare torso and his skin is so cold against yours that you press yourself closer to him as if you could warm him up that way. He moans softly into your mouth and releases your lips, his hair tickling your forehead.

You - you're not sure what just happened.

And then he pulls you close, so close that you can feel his bulge against you. It's around the height of your waist and it's unsheathed, yes, it's definitely out and then his fingers are down and tugging at your trousers.

You feebly push at his shoulders.

"No," you whisper.

He ignores you. Your trousers fall to the ground and his fingers ghost over your tummy, your thighs, just barely not touching your bulge bone. He kisses you again, swallowing your protests. You don't want this, you don't, but he's here and you haven't been touched by anyone in so long and you don't want this but you do -

He releases you and you stagger backwards, breathing hard. In the darkness you can't see him but you can hear his breath and feel his presence like electricity buzzing where he touched you. You don't know what's happening, you try to gauge your feelings for him or his feelings for you and don't even know if it's red or black or anything at all, this is so different from when you were vacillating with Mindfang because at least with her you knew what you were feeling -

"Rufioh," he says, his voice so gentle and so soft, and you reach for him before you realise your body is moving. Your fingers find his shoulder and you feel your way up until you've found his cheek. His skin is surprisingly soft under your warm fingers and he touches you gently, drawing you in towards him.

"Rufioh," he says again, reverently, as if he was uttering the name of a god. You're not sure what to think or say or feel. He touches his forehead to yours.

"You love me?" he whispers, his voice coarse.

"I." You're taken by surprise. You try to back away, but he tightens his hold on you, drawing you against him. He's taken off his clothes as well, you notice, wondering vaguely when he got the chance to do that. Especially without you noticing.

He leans down, his breath brushing against your ear and a few errand strands of his hair settling on your face.

"You love me?" he asks again, a small but poignant threatening undertone to his voice.

You know what he wants to hear. Why he wants to hear it is an entirely different matter. You have no idea why someone like him would give a damn about your affection.

Unless he's started to like you a little bit too much. Maybe you can use it to your advantage.

You swallow.

"Yeah," you whisper. You reach up again, find his face, and draw him down towards you into a kiss. He responds eagerly, pressing his tongue against your lips until you part them and let him in. His kisses are different from Mindfang's. You still don't know if you want this, if you want him, but simply the fact that you've seen or touched nobody else for more than a week is enough to make you want him -

He pushes you back until your back hits the wall and curls his hand around your intact horn. Despite the numbness coming from your other horn you can feel arousal flooding through you and arch into his touch. His breath is cool on your skin as he draws back and runs his hands over your torso, long fingers with sharp nails more gentle than you ever thought he would be.

"You love me?" he whispers again. You're distracted by his hands roaming lower, touching your thighs and coming dangerously close to your half-unsheathed bulge; when you don't answer, he draws you towards him with a force that makes your ribs crack. His unsheathed bulge winds itself against your skin, longer and thicker than you ever even thought bulges could be. One of his hands is now on your head again, fingernails digging into your scalp.

The pain inexplicably makes you feel hotter and you moan, reaching down to touch his bulge. He hisses and grabs your horn, barely hitting the line between pain and pleasure; you moan loudly and your bulge unsheathes fully, touching his. His bulge is so long it easily wraps around yours several times, and you can feel your legs go weak with the intense need flooding through you.

He withdraws, kisses you harshly and drags you down until you're lying on the stone floor. He's above you, touching you, his bulge winding itself towards you.

You look up, barely able to make out his face in the nearly complete darkness. You can feel him all around you, his hands touching your naked skin and his breath on your cheek and his long hair on your chest and his bulge, his huge bulge everywhere -

You close your eyes as he kisses you. His bulge is coming away from yours now and teases the entrance of your nook and you _know_ you don't want this, you don't want him, but when you try to push him away he doesn't even seem to notice. Instead, he shifts forwards, his bulge entering your nook with one swift stroke.

You groan as he fills you, his bulge so much thicker and longer than Mindfang's, and you reach up to grip one of his horns, your fingernails digging into them so hard it has to hurt. He chuckles and starts to move inside you; you gasp in pain, pull his hair and tighten your hold on his horn.

It's his turn to groan now, but he's still in a lot less pain than you'd like him to be, and he pushes into you so hard you cry out. You fight back, fight him as much as you can, scratching his face and his scalp and his horns and he hisses, only getting more violent in his movements. You can feel tears on your cheeks as you wonder how, how could you ever let him believe you wanted this -

"Don't cry," he whispers, slowing down, his hand almost gentle on your face, "don't cry, Rufioh, it will all be over soon."

Your hand tightens in his hair and you turn your head away as he moves, pain and reluctant pleasure flooding through you until he stills, groans, pulls out and fills his bucket. He pulls you up, his hand on your bulge, and you don't want to be close to him but you bury your head in his shoulder, muffling your own sobs by biting down on his skin as he makes you pail.

"Don't cry, Rufioh," he whispers when it's over. His arms are around you, rocking you like a child. "Don't cry."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend Maria drew [this beautiful picture](http://itsakindofdalek.tumblr.com/post/102623336882/dont-cry-summoner-this-is-an-illustration-to) for this chapter, and I cannot thank her enough!


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for violence, torture, and rape.

 

 

He calls you to him the night after that.

You come hesitatingly, not wanting him too close to you after what happened. He kisses you, his hands gentle. You can't help shrinking away from him.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly.

He's your tormentor and your only hope. _You love me, Rufioh?_

You shake your head and lower your eyes. Only a moment later, his fingers are on your chin, raising your head.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says.

You find the strength to doubt that, but say nothing.

"Do you love me?" he asks.

You nod, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You can't, you can't bear him forcing himself on you again, but if it means you get to live, you get to be free -

He kisses you, and you force yourself to raise your arm and curl it around his neck. When he starts undressing you, you gasp and jerk away involuntarily, and he doesn't miss it.

You have tears running down your cheeks by the time you manage to find the courage to speak. He watches you intently.

"I - I'm weak. Be gentle." It's barely more than a whisper. He leans in, wraps his arms around you, and kisses your tears from your cheeks.

And to your surprise, he honours your request.

 

 

You don't know how many nights, weeks or perigees pass. The Highblood takes pleasure from you almost every night, but he barely talks to you. You cry yourself to sleep, wishing you could hear the sound of another troll's voice again. You start getting a twisted sort of enjoyment out of it when he fucks you, and you find yourself holding on to him longer than you should afterwards. His kisses are gentle. His skin is soft.

You've given up hope of ever being free, and sometimes, you don't want to. Sometimes, when it's late and you're hungry and in pain and alone, you wish you could stay here forever, with him. You start dreaming of him taking you as his slave and protecting you from the Condesce. You would be his, in every way, and you wouldn't have to die -

He still asks you, every time he takes you, he asks you if you love him. After a few nights, the answer comes without hesitation. At some point, it's not a lie anymore, not exactly.

And then, one night, he comes to your cell, tells you to wash and get dressed, and then he leads you to a room you've not been in before. You cling to his arm as he opens the door.

"Your Condescension," he says, and pulls you into the room with him.

She's here, her hair spilling out behind her. She looks taller than you remember her. Her eyes take in your appearance, then she looks at the Highblood.

"Thank you," she says. "You may leave."

He bows and backs out of the room. The door closes behind him and you suddenly feel too weak to remain standing. You fall to your knees, unable to care about what she might think of you.

She's still standing, simply looking at you. Her body is completely motionless, and yet her hair floats around her as if it was moved by wind or possibly waves.

"How have you fared, Summoner?" she finally asks.

You don't answer, simply because you don't know what you would say. You're in terrible condition physically and mentally, you barely eat, you don't see anyone but the Grand Highblood, but you don't want to leave, you don't want to go - you want to stay here, with him.

"He likes you," she remarks without commenting on your lack of response. "You're looking a lot better than I thought you would."

You raise your head, looking at her. If she thinks he likes you -

"I'm here to see if you're ready," she says. "Ideally, I'll have you executed less than a week from now. Do you admit to treason?"

_Executed. Executed. I'll have you executed. Executed. Less than a week. Executed._

"What?" you manage, unable to grasp anything beyond the concept that a week from now, you could be dead.

"Do you admit to treason?" she asks again, unnervingly patient.

You stare at her, blankly.

"Rufioh," she says, coming closer and crouching down so her face is level with you. "You betrayed the empire, lead thousands of people to their deaths and defied me. Do you admit to being a traitor?"

You slowly start to remember. All the things you haven't thought of in weeks - Mindfang, Pyralspite, Colvea - the revolution, the deaths - the execution -

You cover your eyes and shrink away from her. She reaches out with a cold hand to steady you.

The revolution -

Why did you start that again?

You wanted. Something. You barely remember. It was so many sweeps ago. You don't want to think about it, you wish you could run away, flee into the Highblood's arms and cling to him -

Slavery, you suddenly know, you were opposed to slavery. Why?

Slavery would save you. You want to be his slave.

"Say it, Rufioh," she urges you quietly. "Tell me that you are a traitor."

You uncover your eyes, look at her, then slowly shake your head. You don't know why.

She groans, lets go of you and stands up. "Highblood!" she shouts. A moment later, he enters.

"I'll return," she says. "See that he is ready."

 

 

He takes you rough and hard again, and you cry in his arms from the pain and the hurt and the fear, so much fear because he hurts you, he hurts you and you want him gone but how can you even think that when you love him -

He holds you.

"I don't want to die," you whisper, your lips over his skin.

"You won't have to," he assures you and kisses you.

 

 

You lie awake, unable to sleep. You sit with your back against the wall, drink water and try to clear your head.

You try to remember what brought you here. You try to remember why you want to get away from the Highblood when you love him. You try to remember your revolution and the things that drove you.

Pyralspite.

She's there, in your mind, no more than a memory but enough to rouse you a little bit. She protected you, she would have protected you from this. You took her for granted. You let her die.

Thinking about her makes almost-forgotten grief boil up inside you, and you cry, you weep for your lusus and your matesprit, you cry for Colvea who is surely dead now -

Mindfang, you want Mindfang back.

The Highblood's love is hollow. You can only hope he really means to free you, but you can't bring yourself to believe him completely. You want Mindfang, you want her soft hands and the deep red security of her love, back before she worked against you, when you were matesprits and never had to worry about anything, her love covering and shielding your mind -

You try to remember why she worked against you, you try to remember how she died.

You remember how she died, you remember your lance going through her heart far too easily and you remember holding her body. You remember burning her body and grieving with Pyralspite. You remember Pyralspite comforting you.

Pyralspite...

You don't know how late it is when you finally, finally come to the realisation that you want your old life back. You want Mindfang and Pyralspite, you want Colvea and Meulin. You don't want the Highblood. You want to be free.

And you can't trust him to give that to you.

He comes to get you and you haven't slept. He kisses you and you kiss him back out of habit. You don't cling to him as you walk on unsteady feet. You feel weak and shaky by the time you reach his room. You allow him to fuck you, because you have to. He's rougher than usual. It hurts. When you cry afterwards, he holds you, but there is no solace in his embrace.

"I don't want to die," you tell him again.

"You don't have to." He kisses you. "You don't have to die."

You look at him, doubting his words.

"What did she mean when she told you to make sure I was ready?" you ask.

He sighs, holds you closer against him. "She wants you to tell her that you're a traitor. She wants to say it, publicly, at your execution. She wants me to torture you until you say it."

Your mouth is dry.

"Will you?" you whisper.

He kisses you. "No," he says. "No."

 

 

You forget to count the days until the Empress is back, and you forget yourself when you are with the Grand Highblood. You have to remind yourself, forcefully, that you want to get away from him, and you work hard on remembering your revolution, your aim in life.

Because it could be so easy. You could tell her that you are a traitor. She would judge you ready, and you would be executed.

But you cling to life, even the horrid and miserable life you have here, because death scares you more than anything. You felt Mindfang die after your duel, and you knew how scared she was; scared, so scared because she knew it was coming, and she was the bravest troll you ever knew. You don't want to die, you'd rather have the Highblood force himself on you a million times than dying, because dying is vast and dark and unknown and so, so terrifying - at least you know the Highblood -

So when you are alone with the Empress again, you stand on shaky legs for as long as you can.

"Do you admit to being a traitor?"

You're shaking and scared, but you force yourself to look into her eyes regardless.

"No," you say.

She narrows her eyes.

"Your friend the Grand Highblood has not done a very good job," she remarks.

"It's not his fault," you say immediately. Your legs feel weaker than ever, and you let out a shaky breath before giving in and sinking to your knees. When you look at the Empress, the corners of her mouth have turned up very slightly.

"Are you protective of him?" she asks.

"No." Yes. But you're not going to admit that.

"Then why would you say somefin like that?"

"Because it's not his fault. I'm simply never going to tell you what you want to hear, no matter what he does to me." Your voice sounds stronger than you feel. You shiver slightly, falling back onto your heels. You wonder what she will tell him, and what he will do to you after this.

"You don't think what you did was wrong?" she asks, her tone low and dangerous.

"No," you say, as calmly as you can. Your shivering creeps into your voice, but you keep eye contact with her nonetheless. "I was never wrong. I was arrogant, sure, to think I could win. It cost the lives of many good people. I regret that. Maybe it makes me a murderer. Maybe it even makes me a traitor. But I wasn't wrong. I was never wrong. I'm still not wrong."

She looks at you, no longer smiling; instead, her face is now a stone cold mask.

"Highblood," she says. When he enters, she simply looks at him with such a withering look that you wonder why he doesn't crumble under her gaze. "Do better."

 

 

"You have to tell her what she wants to hear," the Grand Highblood says later that night, when you're alone with him. He's not touching you.

"No," you say softly.

His hand closes around your wrist. It's the arm he broke, so long ago, and it's been healing well, but he squeezes it and you hiss in pain.

"You have to," he growls.

"No," you say, louder this time. "I won't, and you can't make me."

He pulls you forward by your broken arm so harshly that you cry out. You look into his eyes, knowing that your allegiance with him is over. You can't save it. He can't save you.

"You never meant to let me go, did you", you say.

He laughs darkly and pulls you in for a kiss. His teeth graze your lips and you taste your own blood. Before you can bite back or pull him closer, he pushes you away. You stumble and fall, and before you know it, he's attacking you.

You've seen his clubs before, the clubs that every subjugglator has. You've never known their touch before now. He beats you until all you know is pain, and the last thing you know before you black out are his hands, cradling you, pulling you closer towards him.

 

 

You wake with your head in his lap. His fingers are threading through your hair.

Everything hurts, and you're scared to move because that will only make things worse. He seems to know you're awake, though, because his movements stop.

"You have to tell her what she wants to hear," he says calmly.

Even breathing hurts. You cough, wincing in pain. "No."

His hands, so gentle only a moment before, tighten in your hair and pull you up. You give a shout. He steadies you. You move slowly. Your broken arm is pulsing painfully, sending stabs of pain through your body every time you move or anything touches it. You carefully move your other limbs.

Nothing else is broken, simply bruised, but bruised to the point of barely allowing you to move.

He pushes you backwards and you know what he's going to do. You push, unable to get him off you.

"No."

He ignores you.

"No, please, please, no -"

It's like the first time but worse because he wants to hurt you, he's doing this with the purpose of hurting you, and there are so many things burning through you besides the pain - betrayal and hurt and anger and you didn't realise how much you'd grown to care for him, how much you trusted him, he's breaking everything, everything, shattering every ounce of hope you had -

He doesn't hold you afterwards. He leaves as you curl up and cry. He doesn't say a word.

 

 

A slave comes to take you to your cell, where you collapse without the intention of ever moving again.

 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOPS sorry for not updating in so long! Somehow I thought I wouldn't be busy and then I was. I wanted to rewrite parts of this chapter too and didn't get around to it until now.
> 
> There are two chapters after this (an Interlude and an Epilogue) and I'll post them both either later today or tomorrow. AND THEN THIS FIC WILL FINALLY BE FINISHED. Phew.  
> I hope you enjoyed this, as much as you can enjoy a ridiculously tragic and painful story about an incredibly tragic and painful character. (I'm not sorry.)
> 
> Please do leave comments, I love getting feedback!

 

 

You wake up, reluctantly, when the door of your cell opens.

"Rufioh," a voice says.

You don't react, just curl in on yourself more, shielding your head with your arm. It's not the Grand Highblood, he must have sent one of his servants again. Or maybe it's not on his orders, maybe the Condesce has decided to execute you now?

"No," you whisper.

"Rufioh," the voice says again. You hear footsteps.

The voice sounds familiar. She touches your shoulder and you flinch away. Recently, touches only meant pain for you.

"Shit, what's he done to you? Rufioh, I - I'm not gonna hurt you."

Something in your think pan clicks. You remember that voice. You associate it with trust.

No, everything in you screams immediately, no, no, no, if she's here she's not safe -

"Leave," you whisper.

"Rufioh, don't you remember me?" Her voice is thick with tears. You've never known her to cry. You slowly uncurl and turn to face her.

"You can't be here," you say, "you have to go, you're not safe, you have to go -"

"I'm here," Colvea says. She reaches out, shyly, puts a hand on your shoulder. "I'm here to get you out."

You say nothing. Tears come, unbidden. She looks at you, her face scrunched up in sympathy.

"Oh, god, Rufioh, what's he done to you?" she whispers.

You sniff, wipe your tears away and reach for her. She wraps her arms around you tenderly. It still hurts, but it's the best kind of pain you've ever felt.

"Colvea," you whisper.

"I'm here, Rufioh," she says. "I'm gonna get you out."

You pull back and look at her.

"It's a lie, isn't it?" you say. "It's a lie, he's found you and he's getting up my hopes again and he will kill you and make me watch -"

She grimaces.

"He'll do no such thing," she says. "Can you walk? We have to go."

"It's a lie," you repeat.

"It's not a lie, Rufioh. I found Meulin and Horuss and we've been plotting to get you out. Come with me. Here."

She holds her arm out to you and you scramble to your feet. It's too good to believe it, too good to be true, but after what happened earlier it's the only hope you have - she'll die for it, you know she will, there's no way this is real but you can't help but lean in to her as she guides you outside.

"You shouldn't be here," you mutter again.

"Well, I am," she says. "So you can deal with it. This place is huge, we have to hurry or we'll get caught -"

"How did you get in?" you ask.

"It took us ages to find out where you were," she says. "After that, it was surprisingly easy. Almost as if they wanted you to escape. The doors were unlocked. No guards or anything. The only one I saw was a little girl, a purpleblood."

You stop immediately.

"That's impossible," you say hoarsely. "She's dead."

"It's not important," Colvea says impatiently. "Come on."

You follow her reluctantly. She steps outside and hisses softly. The sunlight hits you a moment later and you hide your face in Colvea's shoulder. A second later, a shadow is cast over both of you. You open your eyes again and when your vision clears, there's a huge white shape in front of you.

You reach out to him instinctively and slam against Lynara's barriers.

"Gryff," you whisper. The large lusus bows his head and nudges your face with his beak gently.

"He found us," Colvea explains softly. "He feels awfully guilty for deserting you. He's still scared. But he said he'd come rescue you."

You look at her, your eyes wide.

"You can -?"

She nods. "He reached out to me. He missed you." She frowns, then puts her arms around you. "You can't feel him?"

Tears sting your eyes. "She took them away," you whisper, "she took them all away from me."

Colvea frowns at you, then hugs you again. "You look terrible," she says. "Let's go, let's get you back into the world of the living. We - we hoped you'd be able to fly, but really, there was never a big chance of that, was there? Gryff will carry you."

It brings back memories, just that sentence, of Pyralspite, of Mindfang. "It's not right," you say.

"He offered. He says his grub used to ride on him all the time. He's gonna keep you safe, you hear me? He'll get you home safe, Rufioh."

You don't have a home anymore. You're not sure you ever really did.

"Okay," you say, swallowing. Colvea nods at you and, holding on to Gryff's feathers, swings herself onto his back.

You look up at her and gulp. She rolls her eyes, smiles, and reaches down a hand. When you take it, she pulls you up to sit behind her with ease.

"You're so much lighter," she mutters. "Did you even eat?"

You put your arms around her waist, trying to ignore the stab of pain from the broken bones. "Not really," you say.

She sighs. "Okay," she says. "It's quite a long way, and you have to stay awake, Rufioh, okay? You have to hold on to me, or to him, and you can't let go. Don't let go, okay?"

You lean against her back, tightening your hold on her waist. There's a jerking motion as Gryff spreads his wings and flies. You risk one last look down to the buildings where you've been held, and then you bury your face in the back of Colvea's neck because the height makes you feel dizzy. Instinctively, you try to spread your wings, just before you remember that you don't have wings anymore.

You miss Pyralspite. You miss flying. You feel the fresh air running through your hair and it hurts your broken horn, and holding on to Colvea hurts more than you want to admit. She places one of her hands over yours, interlacing your fingers, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, it will all be fine.

You lose track of time as you soar through the air on the griffin's back. The sun sets, unnoticed, and when you look up some time later, you realise just how much you missed seeing the two faces of the moons. It would feel peaceful, except the wind is tearing at you and your horn is in agony and holding on to Colvea gets more difficult every second. She says something, but you can't hear over the wind. You close your eyes, lean against her back, and in spite of yourself wish that you were back, back in your cell in the Grand Highblood's dungeon, back in his embrace...

Colvea squeezes your hand and you start. You open your eyes for a second, but close them again instantly as the cold wind brushes against them. You press your face deeper into Colvea's neck.

You only just get done thinking that you're home, you're okay, she will take care of you. Your consciousness slips away. By the time you realise you're falling, it's already too late.

 

 

"Will he make it?"

"I don't know," a familiar voice says. She sounds worried.

Meulin, you think. Opening your eyes or even speaking proves to be too much for you, so you just listen.

"He might. I don't know," Meulin says. "We're lucky you were already descending when he fell - who knows what might have happened otherwise."

"Don't blame yourself, Colvea," another voice says. A male voice. Horuss. "He was too weak, it's a miracle he even made it this far -"

"I should have held on to him tighter, though," Colvea says, and you can tell from her voice she's crying. "I knew he wasn't strong enough, I should've known, I should have - if he dies it'll all have been for nothing."

You want to tell her that she's wrong, because you're free and home and with your friends, but all you manage is a soft groan.

"Rufioh," Colvea says immediately, and you feel a hand in your hair. "Rufioh, can you hear me?"

You groan again and through immense effort, you manage to open your eyes.

They're all here, crouching over you, Colvea and Meulin and Horuss, and just seeing their faces makes warmth seep through you. You thought you'd never see them again.

"Are you in pain?" Meulin asks.

You frown. You are, but you're not. You don't know. Pain has become so normal to you. Your constant companion in the darkness of the Highblood's cell -

But there's something else.

You try to form words. They don't come out when your mouth opens, so you try again.

"My legs," you say softly, "they feel... invisible."

"Shit," Meulin says. "You were right."

"It doesn't matter," you whisper. "It's -" You're suddenly gripped by pain in your chest, and when you lean up to cough, you can taste the blood that drips from your lips.

Colvea holds you, supports you. "What's wrong with him?" she asks anxiously.

"I don't know," Horuss says. "Ruf - Rufioh, how are you feeling?"

You close your eyes, then open them again and look at him.

"I'm home," you whisper.

Colvea gingerly touches your side and you flinch, too weak to jerk away.

"Broken ribs," she whispers.

"We can heal him," Horuss says. "I can make him new legs and he'll be perfectly fine in a few days, just you see -"

He's looking at you with something feverish in his eyes, hope and despair all mixed up in one. You close your eyes.

Some far-off part of your think pan, the one that used to know a few things about healing, tells you that it's likely your broken ribs pierced your air sacs.

"No," you whisper.

"Rufioh," Horuss says, "we can heal you."

_It's over_ , you think. You lean in to Colvea. "No." _It's over._

If they try to heal you, it will mean more pain and more suffering and you will die anyway. There's an easier way.

"Meulin," you say. Her sharp eyes focus on you. "The berries."

"No," Colvea and Horuss gasp in unison. Meulin stares at you for a small moment, then reaches out, touches your cheek and kisses your forehead.

As she leaves, Colvea puts her arms around you. "You can't die, Rufioh," she says, her voice very small.

"It's over," you say.

"It doesn't have to be."

Only the previous evening, you thought you would never be okay with dying. You were scared and wanted to do anything to survive.

But you can't live forever, and your part in this story is over. And there are worse ways of going than in peace, surrounded by your friends.

Meulin returns with the berries and water, and Colvea holds you as Meulin feeds them to you. They taste bitter and sweet at the same time. Swallowing them hurts, but it gets easier the more you take. Your vision flickers, and all of a sudden it's Aranea holding you, caressing your cheek, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You want to reach for her but she drifts away.

She looks younger, her hair shorter and her eyes less bitter. She's joined by a young Condesce who has her hair in braids and laughs freely.

"Just a few more," Meulin says, and she's younger too, laughing, bubbly, excited. Horuss is holding your hand, and his younger self is showing a smile you've never seen before.

You close your eyes but they are still there. Others join them, a young Redglare with Mituna, both smiling and happy, the Dolorosa with them, her hair long and her arm around Kankri. Dualscar and the Highblood join them as well, and the Handmaid steps close to you, kissing you gently.

Eleven trolls, all laughing and smiling, all happy.

_We were all friends in another life._

You lean back as their faces fade, and gently drift to sleep.

 

 


	29. Interlude

To say the Empress wasn't happy when she found out that her prize prisoner had gone missing was as close to the truth as he would be willing to go.

He had no idea how she'd found out, but it didn't matter. He was her loyal subject, but she was spying on everyone. She had spies to spy on her spies. He thought he was the one to bring her the news that the Summoner had escaped, but it turned out she already knew.

He suspected Lynara. The girl had been defying his control more and more since he'd ordered her to make Rufioh believe she was dead.

And that Rufioh had escaped wasn't the only thing the Empress knew.

"You've grown - _frond_ of him, haven't you," she said. He supposed that one wasn't exactly hard to figure out. After all, the Summoner had been in fairly good shape when she'd seen him. Far better than most of his prisoners, in any case. He didn't _like_ to see him suffer.

"I'm so disappointed in you. Of all people, you were the last I expected to make such a fatal mistake. And now he's gone. What am I supposed to make of that?"

"Your Condescension," he said, growing nervous. "It doesn't mean I've set him free, or helped him escape. You know I'd never do something like that. I am loyal only to you."

"You've been such a good servant," she said, wistfully. "But you know I can't just take your word for it. You are dismissed - find the Summoner and bring him to me, and I might reconsider."

 

 

He told himself it was the Empress's order which was making him look for Rufioh, but he knew it wasn't. He hadn't helped him escape. He'd let him believe for a while that he might, that he would, when in reality he'd never had any intention to.

But now, he was out of service, most likely forever. He wanted to find Rufioh and had no way of knowing where he could be.

And even though he didn't know much about Rufioh, he started at the places he knew he was connected to: Mindfang's hive, the former Cavalreaper camps, the mountains.

And against all odds, it only took him a few nights of aimlessly wandering around before he found them.

Or rather, they found him.

He saw the blueblood first. He didn't recognise him.

"The Grand Highblood himself," the blueblood said. "It's an honour... or would be, if I was still in my old profession."

"Who are you?" the Highblood asked.

"Executor Darkleer," the blueblood said.

"Darkleer!" He found him, he found them, if there was any place Rufioh could be it was here.

"Is the Summoner with you?"

"Sorry," Darkleer said. "You just missed him."

Something in his voice alarmed the Highblood. "Where did he go?"

"Why do you want to know?" Darkleer asked, distressingly calm.

"So I can take him back with me."

Darkleer almost smiled.

"You can't bring him back from where he went, my friend," he said. "Sorry."

The Highblood took a moment to realise what he meant.

"He's dead?" he said coarsely.

Darkleer nodded gravely.

The Highblood swallowed. "He was fine a few nights ago."

Darkleer snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. You messed him up good. He was half dead when Colvea found him, and he wasn't strong enough to make it here. You realise what this means, don't you?"

The Highblood shrugged. "Apart from that I've lost my job for good and will probably be culled the next time one of her servants sees me?"

Darkleer didn't answer. Instead, the Highblood was suddenly attacked.

He didn't see it coming. She came out of nowhere, jumping on him and delivering such a precise kick to his throat that he stumbled and fell, coughing. Her claws scratched his face, spilling his purple blood.

It took him far too long to recognise who she was.

The Sufferer's aged Disciple.

"What -", he managed.

"You hurt our friend," she hissed. "And countless others. You know he was here, you know he's dead, you know how to find us now."

She was holding him down with a force he wouldn't have expected of a troll of her age and blood caste. In her right hand, she was holding something which looked like a metal club.

They were going to try to kill him.

He found his strength within moments and sat up, throwing the Disciple off him. She hissed at him and brought the club down on his legs hard enough to hurt. He was in bad condition, he realised - he was a highblood, more than that, he was _the_ Highblood, he'd never had to fend for himself, and it had been easier not to eat in the wilderness than to try and learn something he'd never had to deal with.

Together, the Disciple and Darkleer could just be strong enough to overpower him. The Highblood didn't want to die. Not by the hands of these exiles, anyway. He deserved better.

"Let me go, peasants" he snarled.

In response, Darkleer came at him and pushed him down again, holding him back. He was strong, stronger than the Highblood, and it freaked him out. He'd never been outmatched before.

He pushed up with all his might, used his legs to power him, and was rewarded with another hit from the Disciple. Her face was ugly with hate and she had no tears as she hit him, over and over again, he wanted to smash her because if he got the chance he could snap her like a twig but Darkleer was holding him down -

"Meulin," Darkleer said softly.

The Disciple stopped, madness in her eyes.

"He - he - didn't you see what he did to Rufioh?" she spat at Darkleer. "The wings and the horns and god knows what else, he wasn't himself when Colvea got him out, he wasn't even strong enough to -"

The Highblood tried to move. Darkleer was still there, holding him down with an iron grip.

"No," he managed to say, "no, I -"

The Disciple dealt him another blow, effectively silencing him. The Highblood could taste his own blood, which hadn't happened to him in centuries.

_I was cruel to him but he loved me and I stopped -_

_He loved me he loved me he loved me -_

It took him a moment to realise that Darkleer wasn't holding him down anymore. His limbs felt like they'd been filled with lead. He groaned.

"Don't -"

When he opened his eyes, the former Executor was holding a bow - a broken bow.

Probably the very same bow he was meant to be executing the Disciple with. The irony wasn't lost on the Grand Highblood.

He closed his eyes again as the bow string wrapped tenderly around his neck.


	30. Epilogue

The date of the Summoner's execution was never announced.

Over the following sweeps, two major theories surfaced among the trolls. The first one was, unsurprisingly, favoured by the highbloods and said that the Condesce still had him in her custody, giving him a similar treatment to that she'd given her Helmsman.

The second one was closer to a rumour, and mentioning it was forbidden by royal decree. In hushed voices, people were saying that the Summoner had escaped using his secret superpowers. There were a few who believed that the Grand Highblood helped him.

There was one story that stuck around consistently even though it defied all reason and logic.

The Summoner's body was never found, so many secretly hopeful lowblooded trolls believed that he'd found a way to stay alive, that he was hiding on Alternia, and that he was going to come back one day and finish his life's work.

It was more of a fanciful story, a fairy tale for wrigglers, but still, there were those who believed it devoutly until the day of the Vast Glub.

 


End file.
